


Childhood Does Not Forget You

by Kellyscams



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Best Friends, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Cute Kids, Explicit Language, F/M, Happy Ending, Helen Cho takes no shit, Kid Bucky Barnes, Kid Fic, Kid Steve Rogers, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Mention of past trauma, Moving On, Nightmares, Past Relationship(s), Past Riley/Sam Wilson, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Survivor Guilt, Tony Stark Has A Heart, resolved tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 07:04:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12227994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellyscams/pseuds/Kellyscams
Summary: Sam Wilson thought he'd gotten used to the crazy antics that came with being a certified member of the Avengers.Aliens and crazy monsters and government conspiracies are one thing. Having to play nanny to a pair of rambunctious, out of control, tots he needs to hide and protect is a completely different story. Especially when those rambunctious, out of control tots are none other than the de-aged supersoldiers themselves -- Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes.But having to run after toddler Steve and Bucky may have some surprising effects on Sam's life since it's a lot harder than he realized to hide himself from the eyes of a child.





	Childhood Does Not Forget You

**Author's Note:**

> Amazing thanks to my incredibly talented artist [doodlebugash](http://www.doodlebugash.tumblr.com/) and the mods of this collaboration for making this a wonderful experience! 
> 
> **Just an author's note: Sam speaks to Riley throughout the piece. Riley is not a ghost or around in any corporeal form nor is Sam delusional in any way. It's simply a coping mechanism that Sam employs to make himself feel better by imagining how Riley would respond in//to him in certain situations**

An explosion coming from Tony’s lab is nothing unusual. Actually, it’s become sorta commonplace for Sam to hear things blowing up or to have smoke alarms going off all hours, day and night. The unusual part, on this day, is Tony’s voice coming out of the loudspeakers _after_ the explosion. 

“Uh…” It’s the hesitation that really catches Sam’s attention. Nat’s too, the two of them looking up from the punching bag they’re working on to the walls. “Help?”

After exchanging a quick glance with Nat -- a look that says they share the same _that can’t be good_ fear -- they both dart out of the gym and up to the lab. Clint meets them halfway, so they already know it’s not one of his blunders and Rhodey is sprinting down the hall just as the elevator gets them to the right floor. 

“Any idea?” Nat calls to him. 

“Not a clue,” he answers as he knocks on the door. “But if Tony’s asking for help…” 

He doesn’t get to finish that since the door open and he’s hit with a massive cloud of orange smoke. Orange smoke that smells rank and nasty even from where they stand from halfway down the hall.

“Ugh!” Clint gags. “Gross!”

“ _Блядь_!” Nat exclaims. “What the hell _is_ that?” 

Sam just pinches his nose closed. He’s not even in the mood to ask. In fact, he’s mildly interested in why the two quickest on their feet are currently missing. 

“Uh, where’s Steve and Bucky?” 

Tony’s voice comes from within the disgusting orange smoke. “Ye-ah. That’s, uh, that’s what I need help with.” 

Out in the hall, everyone _not_ overwhelmed by smoke, give each other looks. If Tony needs help with Steve and Bucky… Sam sighs and shakes his head with the feeling things around here are about to get a lot more chaotic than ever. 

In that, he’s most definitely right. The smoke doesn’t even need to _clear_ for Sam to know he’s right. He can literally hear it. Hear it in the two small screaming cries that Tony’s desperately trying to hush. Children’s crying. And, as far as Sam is concerned, the only kids ever at the compound are the Barton kids, and Laura had explicitly forbidden them anywhere _near_ Tony’s lab. 

“No, no!” Tony shouts. “Don’t touch--!”

A loud crash drowns out whatever he was trying to say, glass shattering and Tony’s worried frets over whether or not someone’s hurt themselves. After another quick exchange of glances with everyone out there, Sam sucks in a deep breath and ducks through the dispersing orange smoke. 

“Stark?” he calls out, waving his hand out to get a clearer view of the lab and whatever shenanigans Tony’s gotten them into. “Where are--”

“No!” Tony’s voice comes from the right. “Get _down_ from there! Sam! Help me!”

Hustling over, Sam finds Tony by literally slamming into him and damn near crashing into the floor. 

“Son of a…” He shakes his head. “What is going--”

“Catch him!” Tony shouts. “He’s gonna--!”

Sam looks up just in time to see a big bundle of long limbs and blonde hair fall into his arms. Hard enough that the topple he avoided just moments ago, he takes now as he catches a tiny kid and he ends up on the floor with a giggling little boy in his lap while he sits up in a daze. 

“What the…” Sam looks down at the naked kid who looks back up at him with his tongue between his teeth as he spits out his hysterical giggle. Big blue eyes and mop of messy blonde hair. And suddenly, Tony’s desperate cry for help makes sense. Even though it makes no sense whatsoever and Sam’s stomach drops to his feet. “ _Stark_ ,” Sam growls. “Why the _fuck_ is Steve Rogers a toddler?!”

“No time for that!” Tony shouts as he runs by. “Gotta find the mini-metal-armed-assassin before he destroys the place!” 

Sam is a little too busy still staring toddler Steve Rogers, cause Steve is a fucking little kid for Chrissake, to fully appreciate the delicate nature of Tony’s current dilemma. 

“Yeah, but, Tony, Steve’s a…” Then it hits him. “Wait! _Barnes_ a kid, too? And you _lost_ him?!”

In his lap, Steve struggles to get away as Nat and Clint and Rhodey finally come into the lab with them, now that the gross orange smoke is mostly gone. Tony is telling them to look for a tiny little former assassin with a metal arm while Sam tries to keep Steve still. Which, even for a little guy, is pretty damn difficult. 

“C’mon, Steve,” Sam grunts after taking a palm to the chin. “Hold still!”

“No!” he shrieks. Outright _shrieks._ “Le’ go’a me!”

“Did you find, Barnes yet?” Sam shouts. “Steve’s-ah!” He actually loses hold of him when Steve chomps down on his hand. “Steve! Holy shit, what the hell?”

_“Sam, love,” Riley says. “Things are about to get a whole lot more chaotic around here.”_

Yeah. Chaotic isn’t even the right word.

***

They end up finding Bucky about forty minutes later looking very proud of himself since he’d been hiding up in the rafters just watching them the whole time as they overturned tables and chairs and cabinets in their search for him. It takes another twenty minutes and bribery with cookies to get him down since no one can quite figure out how he got up there in the first place and they don’t want to chance him disappearing on them if Sam, Tony or Rhodey fly up there. Especially since Bucky sorta just flips down and lands gracefully on two feet to _get_ those cookies. Now, he and Steve -- who Sam had flung over his shoulder to keep in place after catching him again -- are sitting at a table, sorta bickering over who gets the most. Sounds like Bucky’s saying he should since he’s bigger and Steve is saying he should cause he’s smaller and needs more. 

And now the rest of them are staring at Tony. Waiting. For an explanation. Which, as of yet, the most they’ve gotten is a shrug and a Tony picking up the bright orange, glowing stone thing Thor warned him about. With a pair of tongs since he seems very, _very_ careful about not wanting to touch it. 

“You were fucking around with that thing, weren’t you?” Sam asks. 

Tony gives him this wide-eyed, scandalized look. As though being accused as something so outrageous is completely out of character. But when everyone else in the room looks at him the exact same way, he sighs and shakes his head. 

“No faith!” He puts the stone back in the case Thor put it in when he’d wrangled it out of some crazy contraption that Hydra cooked up last week. “Let’s go to video, shall we? Hey, FRIDAY? Upload video footage from right before the blast, would ya?”

FRIDAY does as requested. The video starts to play right in the middle of the room. Tony’s actually not doing anything with the stone at all. In fact, he doing something on Bucky’s arm. Steve is sorta milling around the table as he works. Bucky’s making a face at him, probably because Steve tends to fuss over Bucky whenever anyone sees to his arm or any medical related issue, really. Same could be same for Bucky about Steve though. 

The two make quite the pair and, Sam has to admit, an adorable couple. Like on the video, when Bucky says something to Steve that makes Steve scowl and both Bucky and Tony snicker. Despite the glower, Steve still eagerly laces his fingers with Bucky’s when Bucky holds his right hand out for him. They stare into each other’s eyes as the world is just the two of them and Steve leans in to kiss Bucky. 

“This is it!” Tony shouts. “Just pay attention!”

Unfortunately, he’s right, because when Steve leans in, a spark from what Tony’s doing on Bucky’s arm must startle him since he jerks back. When he jerks back, he hits the case, the stone comes flying out of it and, maybe it’s an instinct or embarrassment or he’s just not thinking or something, but Steve reaches out to grab the damn thing with his bare hand. The second his fingers close around it, he’s screaming, and the second he’s screaming, Bucky’s grabbing hold of him. That’s when the explosion of orange smoke happens. 

“See?” Tony holds his chin up. “ _Not_ my fault super soldier number one grabbed the damn thing, is it?”

“So, okay…” says Bruce, who came in with Dr. Cho about a half an hour ago. “This thing has, what? De-aged them or something?”

“Thor did say it held property over time,” Dr. Cho concurs as she studies the orange stone or gem or whatever they wanna call that thing. “He even called it the Time Gem.” 

“Can’t you just, reverse it or something?” Clint asks, stuffing a whole cookie into his mouth. 

“Not so simple when we don’t know how it works, Barton,” Tony says. “This thing didn’t exactly come with instructions.”

“And with Thor in Asgard,” Bruce says, “we don’t wanna turn them into infants.”

“We don’t even know how old they are _now_ ,” Nat points outs. 

She makes a really good point. The only one person that’s had any real experience with kids is Clint. He’s a really good dad, that much is obvious but those are _his_ kids, not Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes de-aged. 

Sam rolls his head back. They’ve also conveniently left out another really serious issue. There’re a lot of people out there who’d _love_ to get their hands on a very vulnerable pair of supersoliders. Either take advantage and simply get rid of them or even raise them in whatever twisted way they want. Sam shudders at the thought and wishes Riley was here for real. He’d whisper a joke in his ear right now. At completely the wrong time and completely inappropriate and it would be completely what Sam would need. 

“We gotta make sure this stays quiet,” Sam tells them, shoving Riley to the back of his mind for now. Where he won’t stay. Where he’s never meant to stay anyway. “I mean, down freakin’ _low_.”

“He’s right,” Rhodey, who’s been pretty quiet and looking like he’s just about done, agrees. “If anyone finds out, they could be in some serious trouble.” 

“Yeah, yeah, okay, you’re right.” Tony nods. “FRIDAY, put the place on total lockdown. Alcatraz style. I’ll ask Pepper if she can get some kid’s stuff for them or something like that. I’ll make sure the two of ‘em even show up in the news with us so no one questions their whereabouts.”

They’re lucky enough there were already some pint-sized clothes hanging around here courtesy of Clint and Laura’s kids that fit them -- or fit them well enough anyway -- otherwise they’d still be running around naked. 

“In the meantime,” Dr. Cho says. “I think we should take Ms. Romanoff’s advice.” Nat lifts her eyebrows, clearly unsure of what advice she’s provided. “Run some tests to figure out their ages and where their vitals are.”

That makes a lot of sense now that they have two kids to take care of. From what Sam knows, it’s good to know about kids’ health for their wellbeing. Blood types and allergies -- hell, they don’t even know if the serum is working properly for Steve anymore, so they should probably get on that. There’s only one problem with that. 

“Um… guys…” Sam mutters. There’s a _really_ bad headache already pulsing at the back of his head. “Where, uh, where’re Steve and Bucky?”

The table they were sitting at is empty. 

***

They have access to the entire compound and the biggest stroke of luck they have is that FRIDAY has already locked the entire place up so there’s no way the two can get outside. But even with FRIDAY scanning all the rooms on all the floors, and all the Avengers’ combined skills, it _still_ takes them all over an hour to find the two mini-supersoldiers. Which is dumbfounding considering when Sam _does_ find them, they’re in the gym making _so_ much noise he can’t understand how the entire state of New York doesn’t know that Bucky’s hanging from a chin-up bar while Steve is screaming that it’s _his_ turn. 

“Is _not_!” Bucky grunts as he attempts to pull himself up more and slips down onto the mats. 

He’s scrambling onto the pile of mats that they must’ve put together so they can get up there and reach the bar in the first place to try again while Steve snags him by the back of the shirt. Yanks at him just enough that Bucky stumbles back.

“My turn!”

Steve is struggling to get up there now, slipping as his tiny hands and feet try to pull him up as quick as possible. Before Bucky can stop him. Which doesn’t get him far since Bucky gets his balance in seconds and is pushing by Steve.

“Not yet!”

He nearly shoves Steve down and climbs up on the mats to get to the bar first. Bucky reaches with his left arm and jumps. His hand closes around the bar, but Steve is wrapping his arms around Bucky’s waist to pull him down. Sam’s heart leaps into his throat while watching Bucky lose his grip and topple right onto tiny Steve. They both tumble off the piled up mats and onto the floor with a series of grunts. 

“Steve! Bucky!” Sam sprints over to them and crouches down to scoop them both up. Steve immediately pulls away. Bucky accepts the help a little. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“M’fine,” Steve grumbles. Wipes his arm across his eyes like he’s trying to hide the tears Sam already knows are there. “Leave me alone.”

“That was _stupid_ , Steeb,” Bucky grumbles. 

“ _You’re_ stupid!” Steve exclaims.

“Stop it, _both_ of you!” Sam shouts as he gets between the two of them. That headache’s crawling across to the middle of his head. “You could’ve gotten _really_ hurt!”

Still scowling, Steve just huffs with his arms pinned against his chest. His lower lip trembles slightly while a tear or two slips from his eyes, but hastily wipes them away. Bucky, on the other hand, huffs and shakes his head, and suddenly assumes the role of lawyer for the both of them. 

“The door was _opened_ ,” he argues. “How come we can’t play in here?”

“Because it’s not a place for kids!” Sam tells him. “And you two were pulling each other off the bar.”

“Steeb pulled _me_ off!”

“It was _my_ turn!” Steve shouts back, circling back around to yell with his tear brimmed eyes replaced with a heated face. 

“Was not!”

Just like that, they’re at it again. Fighting about whose turn it was on the bar when Sam’s tried to make it explicitly clear that the bar was off-limits anyway. No matter how many times Sam tries to break them up, they just keep going. 

“Riley,” Sam grumbles, fingers pressing firmly into his temples, “what the hell would you do if you were with me?”

_“First of all, I wouldn’t’ve lost the kids, love.”_

“Incidental,” he grunts. “I wasn’t the only one in there who let them escape. I can’t believe we discussed having _kids_.”

 _“We discussed having our_ own _kids,” Riley laughs, “not running around after Captain America and the Winter Soldier._ ” Sam grins. Riley’s got a point. _“Right now you should be more concerned with getting help to round them up.”_

Right. That’s a good idea. 

“Uh,” Sam says into his earpiece. An earpiece worn in an attempt to find tiny kid versions of Captain America and The Winter Soldier. “I’mma need some backup in the gym.”

***

It takes Sam, Rhodey, Clint, and Tony to get them out of the gym and back upstairs. On Clint’s advice, they just plop them down on the couch and tell them to stay put while they form a wall in front of them so they can discuss what they should do. 

“The first thing that needs to be done are medical exams,” Dr. Cho says. “We can’t reverse the effects if we don’t know anything that’s going on with them at all.”

“She’s right,” Bruce agrees. “It’s really the only starting point.”

Dr. Cho nods. “I think Dr. Banner and myself should take some blood samples from the both of them so we can work with that. See about _re_ -aging them.”

That does seem like the most logical thing to do. So far, in this whole mess of an afternoon, Helen and Bruce’s idea feels like the only thing that’s given them a path out of this. Sam sighs and rubs at the back of his neck as both Steve and Bucky continue bicker back and forth on the couch behind them. At least they haven’t gone anywhere, even if they’re hollering over a freaking pillow. 

“Okay, but,” Sam says, “how’re we gonna _do_ that?”

Every single one of them stare at each other before turning to look at Steve and Bucky. Yelling and fighting and tugging at the pillow between them. Here they are -- most of the Avengers, goddamn superheros -- and not one of them seems to know where to start. 

They’ve taken down monsters from underground lairs, aliens from sky portals, crazy Hydra mutations. They’ve saved the countries from inner government conspiracies. They’ve saved the world from countless catastrophes, and yet, faced with trying to figure out how to get mini Steve Rogers and mini Bucky Barnes to settle down just long enough for check-ups… and they’re at a loss. 

Their only plan, great as it is, hinges on one thing. Getting these two very rambunctious and out-of-control mini super soldiers to cooperate In anyway they can. And, at the moment, it doesn’t seem very likely.

Steve lands one good slap to Bucky’s face before Bucky yanks the pillow away from him and flings it at him. It knocks Steve over, but Steve, as stubborn as ever even as a little kid, picks himself back up and throws himself with a screech at Bucky. Tugs at his hair and tries like hell to get the stupid pillow away from him like it’s the greatest toy in the whole world even though it’s just a freaking pillow. 

Rubbing his eyes, Sam just stands there. To be honest, he’s not really sure _what_ to do about any of this. 

“Holy shit, man,” he grumbles. 

“I don’t get it,” Tony says. “I thought they were, y’know, buddy-buddies or something.”

“Yeah, sure.” Clint laughs. “But even best friends fight.”

“Yeah but… this is like they _hate_ each other.”

Tony’s right. Between the cookies and the running and the screaming and now the pillow, Steve and Bucky, for inseparable from playground to battlefield, have barely gotten along once. 

“So…” Sam grunts as Steve and Bucky continue to screech at each other and roll over in their dog pile. “What do we do about this?”

“Leave it to the expert,” Clint says. 

He rolls up his sleeves, marches right over to the mini-supersoldiers and snags them by the back of their shirts. Clint lifts them up. Once they’re pulled away from each other, Bucky huffs and scowls and throws his arms over his chest while Steve continues to kick and yell and take swings at Bucky. 

“Put me down!” he yells. “It’s _my_ pillow! I’ll get him! I can do it! I can!”

“Oh, pipe down,” Clint says. “Here.” He lobs Steve into Sam’s arms. “You take this one.” 

“I wanna get _down_!” Steve bellows as he kicks and punches, still trying to get at Bucky. “I can take ‘im, I can!” 

“Steve, why?” Sam asks as he tries to keep him from slipping away again. “Why do you wanna fight with Bucky?”

“Cause Buck-bee took the pillow! It’s _my_ pillow and he tooked it!” 

“It’s _my_ pillow, _Steeb_ ,” Bucky bites back. “You’re too _little_ to do anything with it _anyway_.”

“Okay _enough_!” Nat shouts. “I’ll give you both a _thousand_ pillows if you’ll cut it out!”

Both Steve and Bucky look at her with sparkles in their eyes. It’s Bucky who smiles first and, still held up by the back of his shirt, tugs on Clint’s pants. 

“Really? She’ll get us thousands of pillows?”

Clint sighs and gives her a look, muttering something about bribery and if they’re still asking for that later it’s on her. She simply shrugs and says it worked. 

“Sammy?”

Sam’s belly folds. That’s Steve whispering for him, and he’s only ever called him Sammy a few times. Those very rare times when his walls are down and he lets Sam inside of them. Also, admittedly, when Sam lets his own walls down and allows Steve inside them. Tear-streaked nights with Riley’s name whispered on his tongue held in Steve’s arms. Steve’s felt his pain. Shared in knowing that empty hole that pierces through the chest in losing a loved one so suddenly. Right in front of their eyes.

He’ll never admit it -- Sam’s not brave enough to -- but he’s so envious of what Steve’s found with Bucky again that it hurts. He’d do anything for that.

_“Would you, babe?” Riley asks when Agent Hill comes with messages relayed from Fury. “Would you want to wake up after being frozen for seventy years and then find out that I’ve been a brainwashed assassin all that time?”_

Heart twisting, there’s a hard lump in Sam’s throat. He tries to swallow it and finds that he can’t. Tears pricks behind his eyes, but he knows it’s best not to show them now. Not in front of everyone here. Especially little Steve. Who’s still asking for his attention. 

Sam can’t answer Riley’s question anyway. Not honestly. 

“Yeah, Steve?”

He shifts around so that Steve is at his hip. Now that Steve isn’t wiggling around the way he was, it’s a lot easier to just have a nice, carefree hold on him. 

“We _really_ can have a t-ousand pillows?”

Those baby blues of Steve’s get so big and wide, Sam’s heart melts. He’s even almost tempted to say yes. Instead, he stays tough and strong. He’s gotta. He’s the Falcon. He can do this. 

“I dunno, buddy,” he says. “But you gotta be good, okay? And then you can get somethin’ real nice.”

Twisting his lips like he’s not sure if he’s about to be tricked or not, Steve sighs, but otherwise nods.

“Okay,” he relents with another heavy sigh. “But it got’s’a be real nice.”

Sam smiles and promises it’ll be something good. He figures getting some ice-cream will be nice enough. 

Well, that’s one down.

“Sucker.”

The comment is soft and lighthearted and comes from right behind him. Sam glances over his shoulder to see Maria with a tiny smirk on her lips and a twinkle in her eye. He opens his mouth to respond to her jest. Something. Anything. And finds only air escaping his mouth. Maria flicks her eyebrows with a wink as she leaves Sam standing there with his mouth still wide open. 

His lips pull up in a grin, even if he wasn’t able to come up with anything to say back to her. He’ll get her next time. 

Sam glances over at where Clint is still holding Bucky. Natasha has joined in getting him still and calm. There’s a pout on his lips and he keeps stealing glances over at Steve, but he finally shrugs and nods. Mumbles something about not being a scaredy cat which _almost_ entices Steve into another round of god knows what, but Sam manages to distract him with that promise of something nice if he’s good. 

Once it’s all settled, they decide it’s best to completely separate the two; bring Steve to one exam room and Bucky to another. Since Steve’s gotten cozy with Sam, he offers to go with him. Since Pepper’s already there on the compound, figuring out how to handle any press that might come up during this whole thing, she decides to go along with Sam to give him an extra pair of hands while Clint and Nat take Bucky. 

Tony and Rhodey are already headed back to the lab to get things all set up for whatever they can do to reverse what’s been done. Bruce is gonna work with Bucky since he seems a _little_ more cooperative and Helen is gonna come with them. 

“Hello, Stevie,” Pepper says when she gets there. “I hear you and I are gonna be best friends and go with Dr. Cho, right?”

Still in Sam’s arms, Steve wraps himself around him and hides his face in his neck before peeking out to look at Pepper. 

“Sammy, too?” he asks, and if that’s not enough to make Sam’s bleeding heart melt, _damn you, tiny little Steve Rogers_. “Right?”

Pepper smiles. “Of course. Let’s go, honey.” 

She tries several times to get Steve to come to her on their way to the medical labs. Mostly Steve seems to like teasing her by shaking his head and then spitting out a giggle since Pepper acts like she offended every time he says no. Unfortunately, this sees Sam’s neck sprayed with Steve’s spit each and every time. 

_“Beggars can’t be choosers, Sam,” Riley says. “Better than havin’ the little guy kicking your ass.”_

That one makes Sam chuckle to himself. If Riley were actually here, he’d definitely say that just to make Sam insist that Steve was _not_ kicking his ass. Then Riley would give him that patent smile of his. All warm and teasing. 

Damn, does Sam miss that smile. 

Steve is happy to climb up on her lap once they’re in the med lab and very interested in all the things in there. Asking if he can touch this or see that. 

“No, no,” Helen says. “That’s not for kids. But how about I let you help me?”

Lighting up with a toothy grin, Steve nods and is more than excited when Helen slips the blood pressure cuff over his skinny arm and tells him to press the button on the machine. Steve watches with amazement, eyes sparkling and shimmering, as the cuff tightens and the numbers change. 

Next, Helen lets him listen to his own heartbeat before she does. He seems to have a little trouble with that, so she does a hearing test before standing him back up and asking him if he knows the letters on the eye chart.

“I know ‘em,” he grumbles. “The big-the biggest one’s a E. And the… then the… and the…”

He struggles trying to just name any of the other letters that might be on the chart at all and Steve is trying so dang hard that Sam has to hold back helping him. Helen smiles and taps Steve’s shoulder and points to the chart next to that one. 

“It’s okay, Steve, how about that one,” she says. “The ones with the shapes on it. Why don’t you do that one?”

Steve doesn’t look very happy about that. He even mutters something about no one telling Bucky about the letters, and Sam cannot understand why they seem to hate each other like this, but they all agree not to tell Bucky that he doesn’t know his letters so that he’ll move on with the shapes. 

“Okay, Steve.” Helen points to one of the lines. “Can you tell me the shapes starting from here?”

He nods and tries, squinting and leaning forward for several moments before guessing and guessing completely wrong. Helen needs to switch two lines higher before he’s able to see the shapes and name them properly. 

“Was I bad?” Steve asks as he crawls back onto Pepper’s lap. “Was that wrong?”

“Oh, no, honey,” she says. “You did fine.”

Off to the side, Sam asks Helen if Steve’s eye sight is really that bad. From where they’re standing, he can see those shapes perfectly fine. 

“Well,” Helen tells him. “He might have some form of astigmatism. Which, I’m guessing means the serum isn’t working even for the little things like that. I’m gonna check his hearing next.”

Turns out Steve is almost completely deaf in his left ear. The poor thing looked about ready to burst into tears when Helen and Pepper kept trying to explain that he was supposed to raise his hand every time he heard a noise coming through the big headphones they slipped over his head. 

“S’broken,” he mumbled, knocking on the left side and holding back tears. “This one.”

“That’s okay, Stevie,” Sam had said, picking him back up off the seat. Steve immediately latched onto him and buried his face into his shoulder. “You didn’t break it.”

_“See, love,” Riley whispered. “You’d make a great dad.”_

Whether or not he’d make a good dad isn’t really on Sam’s mind right now. He’s much more concerned with getting Steve to sit again. Which isn’t easy when they’re trying to take blood from him. 

“Come on, Steve, _please_ , sit still!” Sam tries to grab onto Steve’s arm without hurting him while Steve continues to wail and thrash around on Pepper’s lap. “Buddy, come on, it’s not gonna hurt!”

“No!” Steve screams. “I don’t wan’ it! I don’t wan’ it!” 

“Stevie, honey,” Pepper soothes. “You gotta be a big boy, okay? Dr. Cho’s just gonna do a little test to make sure you’re big and strong. Can you make a big muscle for me?”

Steve’s bottom lip quivers but he nods and pulls his scrawny little arm in, squeezing it in an attempt to make his best muscle. Playing along Pepper’s lines, Sam pretends to give that practically non-existent muscle a squeeze. 

“Whoa!” he exclaims. “That’s some muscle you got there! Did you beat up the Hulk yesterday?”

Though he’s still doing his best to sulk, Steve starts to smile. He shakes his head and tries to make another muscle with his other arm. 

“Oh, what a big, strong boy you are, Steve,” Pepper coos. “You think you can let Dr. Cho do what she needs to do now?”

“Okay, Peppa,” Steve whimpers and holds his arm out for Sam to hold like he’s been trying to do. But then the second, the _instant_ , he sees the needle Dr. Cho brings towards him, he’s screaming again. “No! No, no, no!”

“Aw, c’mon, Steve!” Sam tries again. “It’ll only take a--ow!”

The sudden and intense pain to his thigh cuts off most rational thought for the next few seconds and in his daze, Steve is able to scramble off of Pepper’s lap. What Sam doesn’t realize, is that it’s not without assistance -- in the form of a little metal-armed child who’s currently huddled with him in the corner. 

Bucky has Steve wrapped in his arms. Protective like, running his hand down his back and soothing him. The second Sam takes a step towards them, a mini-Winter Soldier glares daggers at him. 

“Don’t you hurt my friend Steeb,” he growls. “He’s _my_ friend.”

Sam almost can’t even believe his ears. All day long, the two of them have been going at it. Fighting over who gets the most cookies and trying to outrace each other and wrestling for a pillow. Now, Sam’s gonna have a goddamn bruise on the side of his leg from Bucky just because he thought they were trying to hurt Steve. Lord help him survive this. Behind him, Pepper holds in a giggle. 

“Bucky.” Sam sighs. “No one is trying to _hurt_ Steve.”

All that gets is Bucky holding onto Steve tighter and Steve burying himself deeper into Bucky’s embrace. He’s almost small enough to disappear in Bucky’s arms. 

“Honey,” Pepper says as she steps closer. “We’re not gonna hurt Steve. We’re just gonna do some tests, just like you did.”

Behind Sam, he hears Clint and Natasha come running into the lab and they're out of breath sighs of relief when they get there. Sam gives them both a look. A look they both understand immediately. Natasha shrugs. Clint holds his palms out.

“We weren’t looking for two seconds,” Natasha tells him. “I swear.”

“Not even _my_ kids are that quiet,” Clint adds. “One second he was there and the next he was gone.”

It takes a bit more coaxing, but they finally manage to get Steve back over with Dr. Cho, but only with the promise that he can sit on Sam’s lap this time and that Bucky can hold his hand. They agree, but for safety reasons, Pepper keeps a light hold on his shoulders so that he doesn’t accidentally pull on Steve’s hand. Steve keeps his face pressed against Sam’s chest the whole time.

“You’re doin’ good, buddy,” Sam murmurs as Helen takes the few vials of blood she needs. “Almost done.”

Bucky runs his left fingers over the top of Steve’s hand. “Be brave, Steeb.”

Steve presses his face harder into Sam’s chest as Helen pulls the needle out and Pepper applies a bandaid. Running his hand over Steve’s back, Sam gives him a jostle. But Steve shakes his head and won’t look up. Sam tries again only to get the same result. 

“Hey, buddy,” he murmurs. “It’s okay; you can look. Dr. Cho is all finished.”

“Yeah, Steeb,” Bucky says. “Look at the bandage you gotted.” He looks at the plain one over his own arm and frowns. “Look an’ see.” 

That makes peel away from Sam just enough that he can peek at the bandaid. Once he gets a glimpse of it, he lifts up a little more and bends his arm up and down. 

Eyes big and wet, Steve glances up at Sam. Sniffles and whimpers, “S’Mickey Mouse.” 

“Yep,” Sam agrees. “You like Mickey Mouse?” Steve nods and runs his arm over his eyes. Watches Sam expectantly. “Hm. You remember what I told you if you were good, right?”

Steve’s lip quivers as he struggles between keeping back tears and trying to smile. He nods. 

“Sometin’ nice,” he says.

“That’s right.” Sam grins and pretends to think real hard. Same way he used to tease Riley when he’d ask if Sam loved him. “How’s some ice cream sound?” 

Face lighting up, Steve bolts upright with a huge smile. “Yes! Yes, yes! Nanilla ice cream! Can I have nanilla ice cream, Sammy?”

“Sure, buddy.”

First making sure everyone else knows that he’ll have them, Sam carries Steve to the common room where the kitchen is stocked with several flavors of ice cream. Very aware of his quiet shadow following behind, Sam pretends he hasn’t noticed Bucky. Not even he puts Steve down at the table and Bucky is still just standing there watching as Sam gets down a bowl for Steve’s ice cream. 

“All right. That’s vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup and whipped cream and a cherry on top.” Sam spins around, bowl in hand, and places it in front of Steve. “How’s that?”

Without even answering, Steve digs right in. Takes a big scoop and stuffs it into his mouth, smearing ice cream, fudge, and whipped cream all around his lips. Sam can’t help chuckling. Until he feels the light tug on the side of his pants. He looks down to see Bucky peering up at him. 

“What’s up, big guy?”

Bucky’s eyes slide over to Steve happily enjoying his ice cream and then back up to Sam.

“You know what, Sam?”

“What’s that?”

“I was--” He looks at Steve’s ice cream again. “I was-- I was real good, too, y’know.” 

A smile tugs the corners of Sam’s mouth. “Oh yeah?”

“Uh-ha!” He shows Sam the bandaid on his arm. “I didn’t cry or nuffin!” 

“Yeah?”

Bucky thinks on that for a second and shrugs a small shoulder. “Well… maybe… a little.”

“That’s okay, Buck.” Sam pats his head. “It’s okay to cry. And I was gonna give you some ice cream anyway.” 

Just like Steve, Bucky lights up with a big smile at the idea of getting his treat. He’s able to climb up on a chair to wait at the table while Steve goes on eating. Bucky asks for strawberry -- _strawbrerry_ , actually -- and Sam gives him the same toppings as Steve. 

_Not bad, Wilson, not bad_ , he compliments himself, stepping back and looking at his handiwork. 

After all the kicking and screaming, the fighting and yelling, the mini-Steve and Bucky are now very contently enjoying bowls of ice cream.

_“All right, all right, babe,” Riley says. “You did a good job.”_

Sam grins and almost pats himself on the back for shits and giggles, but refrains. He settles for a nod.

“Okay, you two,” he says to Steve and Bucky. “You be good and eat your ice cream and I’ll, uh. Um.” Palms out to them as though they might explode if he’s not careful enough, Sam starts backing out of the room. Okay, so, maybe he had the whole parenting thing down for about two seconds. “I’ll… be right back.”

Spinning around, Sam practically flies out of the room. Hell, if he had his suit, he might’ve. What the actual fuck is he supposed to do with them now? Sure, he got them quieted down with some ice cream, but what happens after the ice cream? What if they start fighting again? Even if they don’t, is Sam supposed to keep them entertained? _How_ in the hell is he supposed to keep two entertained anyway?

Sam has no idea what ordinary children might like to do let alone pintsized Captain America and Winter Soldier. He’s not even sure what age they’ve been changed to. There’s gotta be some sort of age appropriate limit to the things they’re allowed to do. The last thing he needs is to mess them up so badly as little kids that they’re not the same whenever they fix this. 

_“Slow down, love,” Riley says. “You’re doin’ just fine.”_

Sam snorts as he flings himself on the couch. “Yeah, easy for you to say.” 

_“No, really. You should be proud of yourself, Sam. I would be.”_

“Thanks, Riley.”

He might say another prayer or two to his fallen angel, his lost love, but the pair of giggles coming from the kitchen catches Sam’s attention before another word can fall from his lips. For some reason, Sam really doesn’t like the sound of it. Giggles should be a good thing. The sound of happy bells jingling in the wind. But today the room pulses around Sam at the sound of it. Twists with the bone deep feeling that those giggles mean he’s about to get up and go back into the kitchen and--

“No!” Sam shouts from right in the doorway. “No, wha-guys! What did you do?”

As soon as Sam comes in, Steve and Bucky both freeze. Caught red handed. Or ice cream handed. Because almost the _entire_ table is covered in ice cream and little finger swirls going right through it. There’s ice cream not only all over their hands, but their faces and even their hair as well. 

“It was his idea!” Bucky points to Steve immediately. “Steeb did it first!”

Mouth falling open at the accusation, Steve’s eyes grow round as saucers and denies this indignantly.

“Nah-ah! No! Sammy, Buck-bee did it!”

“I don’t care _who_ did it!” Sam rubs between his eyes. “Just… just… don’t _touch_ anything else.” 

Unsure whether he should try cleaning them up first or get the mess all over the table taken care of, Sam just stands there while Steve and Bucky continue to bicker quietly with each other over who started this one. Rubbing his temples, Sam finally marches into the room and pulls the chair Steve is on over to one end of the kitchen and then does the same with Bucky’s.

“Be quiet and don’t move,” he tells them both. “You’re both in trouble.” 

Sam tries to be firm, he really does, but it’s exceptionally hard when those two adorable faces -- and, hell, when did Steve and Bucky get so damn adorable like this? -- peer up at him with such devastation swimming in their eyes.

 _“You big softy,” Riley says. “You never forgave_ me _so easily.”_

“Oh, don’t even.” Sam grabs a sponge, ditches that for nearly a half the roll of paper towels, and then decides to take the sponge with all that. “You never had a face like _that_.” 

_“Excuse you, I was positively adorable._ ”

That you were, Sam thinks as he realizes he’s gonna need to scoop the melted ice cream off the table and into the garbage rather than soaking it up with anything. He’s still in the middle of doing that when the others make their way in there. 

“What the fuck happened in here?” 

“Tony!” Pepper exclaims. 

Everyone, Sam included, looks at her, confused at her sudden outburst. For all Tony’s antics, it seems quite peculiar that a very reasonable question has her yelling at him now.

“What?” Tony, like the rest of them, glances around trying to figure out what he’s done wrong. “What’d I do?”

She lowers her voice and, in a hushed tone, says, “Do not _curse_ in front of the kids!” 

The demand is so outlandishly humorous that Sam can’t even bring himself to laugh. Everyone just looks at her like she’s lost her mind. 

While Steve has the misfortune of having to keep up the perfect appearance of Captain America -- wholesome, virtuous, pure -- for the public, the guy knows how to out curse everyone in this room. And the only one who can give him a run for the money is Bucky. Not that much reason for censorship when they were taking down Nazis and Hydra bases during World World Two. 

Besides, everyone in the entire compound have heard them cursing their heads off in a not so innocent way and they’ve never made any apologies for it. 

“You have _got_ to be kidding me,” Tony mumbles. “You want us not to curse in front of Capcicle and Metal Soldier?”

“They’re _kids_ , Tony!”

The flabbergasted look on Tony’s face is enough to get everyone chuckling. It isn’t often that he’s left speechless and right now he looks desperate to argue with Pepper, but just hasn’t the right ammunition to do so. 

“I can’t--” Tony cuts himself off when Pepper gives him a warning look. “Okay, _fine_. What in the gee golly wiz happened in here, Samuel?”

Pepper rolls her eyes and gives Tony another look that suggests there’s gonna be more to this between them later, but that has nothing to do with Sam. He’s more concerned with what _did_ happen and the two monsters responsible for it. 

“I left them alone for a minute or two and came back to _this_.”

“He started it!” Bucky accuses, jabbing a finger in Steve’s direction.

“No! It was him!” Steve yells. Even starts to stand. “Buck-bee said to do it!”

“And _I_ told you two to be _quiet_ ,” Sam scolds, and the two of them zip it immediately, sulking in their respective seats still all covered in drying ice cream. To everyone else, Sam says, “They’re, uh, they’re in trouble. Like, um, a timeout?”

Tony chuckles and makes a joke about Captain America and the Winter Soldier getting in trouble by the Falcon while Clint gives Sam a thumb’s up on taking the best control of the situation he could considering he’s neither a parent nor spent any lengthy amount of time around kids. There’s a big smirk on Natasha’s face. She doesn’t comment, but she winks at Sam as she grabs some paper towels to help clean up the mess like she’s sharing an inside joke with someone -- Sam’s just not sure who. Rhodey just shakes his head, snickering, as he also wipes up the table. 

_“Well, babe,” Riley chimes in. “You guys sure got the teamwork thing down.”_

Yeah, Sam laughs, Avengers Assemble. 

“Hey, Sam?” 

Scrubbing off some of the last of the ice cream, Sam turns to see Pepper approaching slowly. 

“Yeah?” 

She looks almost nervous, and Sam can’t figure out way in the world she would ever be nervous. If anything, everyone in the world should be scared of her. She could rule it with the power she has in her pinky. 

“You think it’d be okay if I took the boys to get them washed up now?” she asks, softly. “Or do you want them to still stay in timeout?” 

Her question shocks the hell out of Sam. He looks over to where Steve and Bucky are still sitting miserably in their seats, confused why Pepper would ask him whether or not she can get them washed. This is Pepper Potts -- the only one who can make Tony Stark quiver with any sort of fear -- and she’s asking Sam’s permission to let Steve and Bucky out of their timeout. 

“I, uh, sure?” 

Pepper holds her hands up. “Only if it’s okay.”

“Well, yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?”

She blinks at him a few times before grinning and patting his shoulder before she goes over to Steve. From where Sam is standing, he can’t hear her, but Pepper says something to him and then takes him over to where Bucky is, says something to him too, and then takes them both out of the kitchen. 

It takes the rest of them about another fifteen minutes or so to finish cleaning up the mess, during which time Sam’s asked several times why he thought it was a good idea to leave two little kids alone with bowls of ice cream. Having no answer, Sam just shrugs and tells them he wasn’t thinking at all. 

When Pepper comes back with Steve and Bucky, they’re all fresh and clean. Looks like she’s given them a bath. They’re dressed in new clothes -- Steve is practically swimming in the shirt she found for him -- and their hair is still damp. The two of them stop right in front of Sam and just stand there with twisted lips while they fiddle with their fingers. Pepper gives their bottoms a pat which gets a mumbled apology from them both. 

First from Steve -- who grunts it at best, looking down at the floor and shuffling his feet. Then from Bucky, who huffs quietly and agrees with Steve. 

Amused by their petulant little faces, it takes all of Sam’s willpower not to laugh. Instead, he simply nods and says it’s okay and asks them not to do it again. They agree and then decide it’ll be fun to make a trampoline out of the couch. No one says anything since it’s enough to keep them busy and out of trouble while they work out a place of action. 

They argue on and off about Steve and Bucky themselves. They consider reaching out to Thor, but know he’s been busy with Asgardian matters. Wakanda’s technology is a lot more advanced than anything they have around here, so they decide getting in touch with T’Challa might be a good idea. 

At some point, Steve -- sleepy-eyed and yawning -- pads back over to Sam and, without a word, crawls onto his lap and falls asleep with his head on his shoulder. Bucky comes over just minutes later and rests his head on Sam’s leg. Sam isn’t quite sure what to do other than sit there with them sleeping on him. 

“I’d take ‘em,” Clint offers. “But do we really wanna risk taking them off the compound?”

Not to mention the whole retired thing. It’s one thing when the world is endangered or they really, truly need Clint’s help. But having him away from home just for babysitting is a whole other story. 

“Probably not such a good idea,” Pepper says. She doesn’t look up from the tablet she’s using as she happily orders furniture and clothes for Steve and Bucky. “Better if we don’t chance anyone finding out anything about this.” 

“Thing we gotta do now,” Rhodey says, “is figure out who’s gonna watch the little rugrats.”

As soon as he says it, little Bucky yawns and stretches, almost off his leg. Sam reacts on instinct. Catching him with one arm while cradling Steve with the other. He eases them both back into the same positions, adding comforting hushes so that they don’t wake up. Amazingly, they don’t beyond an initial stir and quiet noise in the back of their throats. 

Once he’s sure their settled again, Sam returns his attention to the rest of the team, only to actually find himself to be the center of _their_ attention.

“What? Why’re you all lookin’ at me like that?” All it takes is a lift of a few eyebrows for it to click. For his brain to catch up to theirs. “Whoa! Oh hell no! No! Me? What? Why? Why me?”

“Why not?” Natasha asks. “Makes sense, doesn’t it? You were one of the first persons Rogers really connected to after he came back and you and Barnes--”

“Oh, yeah,” Sam interrupts. “Barnes and I had a _great_ start.” 

“--have come a long way,” she goes on as though he hasn’t say anything at all. 

She’s right about that. Out of everyone, he’s now closest with Steve _and_ Bucky, despite their rocky start. They might give each other shit whenever they can, but Sam would die for the guy. And Bucky, he trusts, would do the same for him. 

“I think you’re perfect for the job.” 

Sam opens his mouth to give a counter argument. Maybe something about the fact that he has no idea how to take _care_ of kids let alone deaged supersoldiers. But before he can, they’re at it again with their reasons of why it’s gotta be him to look after them.

“Besides.” Looks like it’s Tony’s turn. “ _I_ can’t do it, Imma be busy in the lab. So is Bruce.” He pats Bruce

in the back. “So he’s out.”

Bruce gives Sam an apologetic look as he pushes his glasses back up and shrugs. 

“He’s sorta right,” he agrees. “And, uh, I dunno if I’m really the right sorta person to look after two kids, if you know what I mean.” 

Right. The Green Guy. They’re already going to great lengths at keeping Steve and Bucky safe while they figure out a way to get them back to normal. They don’t really need the Hulk smashing them. Pretty sure poor Bruce could do without accidentally killing Captain America and the Winter Soldier on his conscious as well.

“Okay, but, what’s wrong with _you_ two?” Sam asks Rhodey and Natasha. “Why can’t one of you do it?”

Rhodey is already waving his hands out in front of him and gesturing to Tony. “I’ve had my hands full of babysitting _that_ one all these years.”

“Hey!” 

“So, there’s no way I’m gonna be stuck with _those_ two now.” 

“Not to mention,” Natasha adds, “Some of us need to be out doing Avenger stuff.”

Beneath Sam’s ribs, his heart begins to pound harder and harder as it starts to become clearer that this is going to be his responsibility. Feeling a bit desperate, he turns his sights on Pepper. Sweet, wonderful Pepper. 

“Pepper?”

She looks longingly at the two sleeping boys and smiles sweetly. 

“I would, Sam,” she says. “But I need to fly back to California. If we’re going to keep up appearances like everything is normal, I can’t suddenly stop showing up to meetings and press conferences.”

A chill washes over Sam’s body. There’re all smirks and expectant faces watching him as the walls creep closer and closer. He keeps trying to come up with something -- _anything_ \-- to argue against their logic. The only possibility he can come up with is Wanda and Vision, but they’re off on a mission for an undetermined amount of time. Maybe one of them will switch with him. Not likely. 

Which means… Which means…

_“Which means,” Riley says, “it looks like you’re gonna be playing daddy for a little while, babe.”_

 

***

“I want that one!” 

“No, _I_ want that one!”

Sam shakes his head and sighs, looking back and forth between the two racecar beds. The _identical_ racecar beds that’re being brought into his suite to be put into Steve and Bucky’s new rooms. The rooms that _used_ to be Sam’s office and personal gym which are now filled with toys and have dressers stuffed with brand new clothes and bookcases with all the classics. Both rooms have been repainted a neutral yellow with Pepper’s promise that she’ll have them returned to their original schemes as soon as this is all over. There’re nightlights and little TVs already programmed with children's shows and movies and shelves stocked with age appropriate board games. 

All of this has gotten done within the past two hours. Seriously, Sam’s completely sure now that Pepper can rule the world. 

“They’re both the same, guys,” Sam tells them as he reads the directions on the instant mac-and-cheese. “You’re both getting one.”

“But I want the bigger one!” Steve shouts.

Bucky slams his hands down on the table. “I need the bigger one!”

“There’s _no_ bigger one!” Sam _tries_ to explain, expecting little results. Their little nap from earlier has definitely recharged their batteries. Sam’s been chasing after them to keep them out of trouble since they woke up. “I promise, they’re the same thing.” 

Both of them must not like this answer since their arms go stiffly across their chests and they sit their with angry mugs on their faces until Sam finishes with their dinner. Which, for some reason, hasn’t come out all smooth the way his mother used to make it and has clumps of cheese in it. 

That doesn’t seem to bother either Steve or Bucky though, since they both dig right in. Digging right in also means making a huge mess all over the table and their faces since they get more food there than in their mouths. 

When poor Steve attempts to drink a glass of milk, he ends up spilling more than half of it all over his lap. Seems he’s not exactly able to drink from a regular glass yet, and despite his angry _I wanna drink from a big boy cup like Buck-bee_ complaints, Sam pours more milk into a sippy cup. 

“It’s okay, Steeb,” Bucky reassures as Steve pokes at the cup with his finger. “It’s a little hard. Right, Sam? Right it’s hard to drink from the cups?”

Sam, in the middle of still wiping up the milk from off the floor, smiles to himself. 

“That’s right, buddy. It’s okay to need help.” 

_“You know, babe,” Riley says. “You keep telling other people that, but you don’t always listen to yourself.”_

Standing back up, Sam tosses the paper towels into the garbage without acknowledging that. There’s nothing to say to it anyway. That hole in his chest just aches anytime he tries. Nothing will fill it. Not without Riley. 

_“You don’t know that, Sam. You haven’t_ tried _to fill it.”_

“Sammy?”

Forcing back the sting of tears, Sam turns back to the table where Steve and Bucky are sitting with orange sauce all over their faces and fingers. Macaroni is scattered across their end of the table and the napkins they used are a total mess. 

“Yeah?”

Steve lifts his plate to show him more. “Is this enough?”

Enough? 

Sam looks at Bucky.

“Can we go play now?” he asks. 

Oh. Oh, they must be asking if they’ve eaten enough food. They’ve finished all that he gave to them. 

First things first.

Sam grabs more paper towels and wets them. Mops up the mess that is Steve’s face first -- Steve whines and struggles the whole time -- and then moves on to Bucky who doesn’t put up _as_ much of a fight, but isn’t exactly a picnic either. 

“Lemme see your hands,” Sam tells them after he’s done his best wiping them clean. They both lift them up. Fingers wide, even Bucky’s left hand. “All right, good enough. Go play.” 

Big excited smiles on their faces, they exchange happy glances before climbing out of their chairs and go running out of the kitchen. Despite himself, Sam laughs. 

Grimacing at his subpar mac-and-cheese, Sam throws what’s left of it out before making a little supper for himself. That leftover chicken parm sounds like heaven right now. Plus, his mom sent over cookies just yesterday. They’re still fresh and no one else has gotten their greedy hands on them yet. 

This is probably the highlight of today and Sam couldn’t be more thrilled to sit down to just enjoy his dinner. The chicken is still nice and fresh as he cuts into it, the steam swirling out of it like a happy dance. Sam is just about to put that first peice into his mouth when he hears a loud crash come from down the hall. He looks down at his plate of food with a heavy sigh. Finds it terribly unhelpful as it just taunts him with mocking deliciousness. 

_“I’m afraid the chicken is not gonna make the noise not’ve happened, babe,” Riley says. “Best go check it out now.”_

“Do I have to?”

_“Samuel!”_

“Kidding, kidding.”

Sam pushes away from the table and heads down the hall. He doesn’t have to go far. All he’s gotta do is figure out if he’s got to look left or right. Steve’s room or Bucky’s.

Turns out to be Bucky’s, and Sam comes in to find them in a rather feeble attempt at getting all the board games back up on the shelf. 

“What happened in here?”

Spinning around, they each drop the games they’d both been holding. One of them happens to open and all the cards from it scatter across the floor. Sam just sighs some more. 

“Steve wanted to play a game!” Bucky shouts. 

“So did you!” Steve immediately adds. 

Bucky looks at Steve and then back at Sam and nods. “I did.”

“And how did _this_ ” -- Sam gestures to the mess -- “all happen?”

They look at one another and then back at Sam. Bucky fiddles with his fingers, but admits that he lifted up Steve so he could reach the games. Steve goes on to say that he couldn’t reach high enough so he grabbed the bottom one. Which made them all fall. 

“Uh-ha.” Sam nods, folding his arms across his chest. “And whose idea was it to pick Steve up?”

They’re both looking at their feet. They keep taking glimpses out of the corners of their eyes at each other, but don’t look at Sam. At least not until Steve lifts his hand and peers up at him with big, round eyes. 

“My idea,” he admits. “But I just wanted to play with the games, Sammy, I didn’t mean’a knock ‘em all down, I promise I didn’t!”

Sam curls his finger at Steve to beckon him closer. Steve must see the anger on his face since his lip is already beginning to quiver. Hell, Sam can feel the heat coming off of it. He can’t really help it. They’re his responsibility now and the thought of them breaking their necks over something so ridiculous makes the whole world spin off-balance. Sam can’t do that again, he just can’t. 

As soon as Steve is close enough, Sam reaches forward to place both hands at his hips. He’s so thin and boney Sam feels like he could break him if he squeezed too hard. And this is the guy who just earlier today could bench press him without breaking a sweat. 

“That’s not the problem, Steve,” Sam tells him. Voice firm. Eyes hard. Heart hoping like hell he’s not about to screw him up in some way that’s gonna leave him messed up when he’s back to normal. “You and Bucky could have gotten _hurt_. Do you understand that? I would never want you two to get hurt.”

Two fat tears roll out of Steve’s eyes and down his cheeks. Not fake, Sam can tell that much. Steve sniffles and nods and looks like he’s trying very hard not to burst into tears. 

“Okay then,” Sam says. 

Sam is ready to leave it at just that. Done and over with. Time to go straighten up the twentieth mess of the day and put all the games back up on the shelves. But Steve is still giving him that heartbroken look. Lip trembling and eyes still holding back tears as best they can. 

“Um…” Sam isn’t sure what to do next. “Do you… want a hug?”

Steve just flings himself over, buries his face in the spot between Sam’s neck and shoulder, and finally lets go of those tears. The force of Steve’s hug catches Sam so off guard that he falls back onto his ass and he needs to balance himself so he doesn’t topple over with Steve. 

“Hey, buddy,” he sooths. “It’s okay. I’m not mad.” Sam looks over at Bucky who’s still standing there like he’s not sure whether or not he’s going to be in trouble for anything. “Bucky, you too. I’m not mad. I just don’t want you two getting hurt. C’mere.”

A wobbly smile pulls up on Bucky’s face as he comes forward, nervously easing himself into Sam’s hug. 

“So no more crazy stuff tonight,” Sam says. “Okay?” 

They both agree and then run off to play some more. Within twenty minutes, Sam is running back in there when he hears another crash because they’ve decided to race their Tonka Trucks right into the wall. This time, he decides it’s time for them to get ready for bed. 

In Sam’s bathroom is now Spongebob soap for sensitive skin and two little step stools with Steve and Bucky’s names painted on them. That doesn’t stop the sink and floor from getting flooded with soapy water. Steve ends up with toothpaste all over his chin, Bucky with soap up and down his arms. Somehow, Sam isn’t sure if they’re cleaner or messier when they’re done. 

It does take a lot of struggling to get them into pajamas, but Sam manages and finally, _finally_ , he’s done. He’s ready to put them to bed. 

“Come on, you two,” he says. “Bed time.” 

Sam gets pouty faces and whines for that, but Sam is gonna hold strong. He can do it. 

_“You can, babe,” Riley says. “Don’t be swayed by those adorable faces.”_

_Oh, yeah,_ that’s _a great help_.

“Please, Sammy?” Steve asks.

Bucky pushes his bottom lip out. “Just a little longer?” 

Just like that, Sam knows he’s doomed. He almost whines and wants to bop his head against the wall. 

“Okay, okay,” he relents. “A few more minutes. Go.” 

Steve and Bucky literally jump in the air at this permission before spinning around, running off, and giving Sam another twenty minutes of peace before he hears them fighting over something again. 

“That’s it!” Sam shouts as he gets into Steve’s room. “Bedtime. Now.” 

Without letting either of them respond he picks Steve up and plops him into his bed. Though Steve is peering up at him with those big eyes of his again, Sam doesn’t give in and lays him back into his pillows, gives him a teddy bear, and tucks him in. 

“G’night, buddy.”

Steve, disgruntled look on his face, flips over on his side and grumbles, “Good night, _Sammy_.” 

Holding back a chuckle, Sam picks Bucky up and carries him to the room across the hall and repeats the process. Only Bucky trades the bear in for a little blue blanket. Sam ruffles his hair. 

“Night, kid.” 

“Night, Night, Sam.”

Sam collapses on the couch, ready to put at least this first day behind him. He should call his mother. Thank her. Apologize to her. Both, really. Maybe Tony, Bruce, and Dr. Cho have made some significant progress. Maybe by tomorrow Steve and Bucky’ll be back to normal. Wishful thinking, but wishful thinking is all Sam has right now. They’re on lockdown.

Leaning his head back, Sam considers just falling asleep right then. It’s a comfortable couch and he’s taken many naps on it before. It wouldn’t be so bad to just spend the rest of the night here. But that idea is chased away when he hears the loud crash -- probably the hundredth today -- and little voices from down the hall. He just opens his eyes. Thinks, for a second, maybe he can pretend. Just… ignore it. But then, that never works around these parts, and Sam groans before heaving off the couch again. 

“What is going on in here?” he asks when he gets to Steve’s new designated room and finds a lamp turned over and a chair on its side and the comforter half off the bed. And Bucky with his blue blanket draped over his shoulders. “You’re _supposed_ to be going to _sleep_!” 

“Steeb was a’scared,” Bucky says.

“I ain’t scared!” Steve, teddy bear hugged against his chest, shouts at Bucky and then look at Sam with a pout. “I ain’t scared, Sammy, I just… wanted to play with Buck-bee more.” 

Sam sighs. “Yeah, but it’s…” What’d his mom use’ta say? “Light’s out time. Come on, Buck.” He holds his hand out and, at first, Bucky gives him a stone cold glare. _Be strong, Wilson_ , he reminds himself. He snaps his fingers. “Let’s go. Now. Say goodnight to Steve.”

Bucky huffs and drops the attitude. Steps forward, blanket dragging behind him, and takes Sam’s hand to allow him to take him back to his new bedroom. 

“G’night, Steeb.”

Back in his racecar bed, Steve has the most pathetic look plastered all over his face -- eyes big and weepy, bottom lip pushed out and shaking. He even sniffles. Maybe real, maybe just for added drama. 

“Night, Buck-bee.” Bear still in his arms, Steve throws the covers over his head and says, reluctantly, “Good _night_ , Sammy.” 

A chuckle rumbles through his chest, helplessly. “Night-night, Stevie.” He gives Bucky a light slap in the butt once they’re in the doorway of his room. Bucky skitters over to his bed. “Night, Buck.”

“G’night, Sam.” he says with a yawn as he tucks himself under the covers, snuggled with the little blue blanket.

Not that it matters. Within thirty minutes, Sam hears a pair of mischievous hushed laughs and voices and the pitter-patter of supersoldier feet. The only thing he can think of is asking Clint for advice. He texts him the whole story. 

**Sam: Barton wtf do I do?**

**Hawkeye: They being quiet?**

He gives a listen. There’s a bit of chit chat but for the most part they’re behaving and being pretty quiet. For them, anyway. 

**Sam: yeah. Pretty much.**

**Hawkeye: Pick your battle, dude. Pick your battles.**

A piece of advice Sam can only listen, too. 

Sam really does end up falling asleep right there on his couch. He’s just too exhausted to keep his eyes open. _Just a few minutes_ , he thought and then was suddenly waking up with a shout of Riley’s name on his lips.

His heart is pounding and he’s shaking all over. Typical after he wakes after a dream like this. Watching Riley fall. Trying like hell to reach for him, their arms stretched towards each other with no hope. Eyes burning with tears, Sam goes into his bathroom and splashes some cold water on his face to calm himself. He takes in some deeps breaths. Curls fingers in and out. Counts to twenty and then down again. All things he’s learned in therapy. 

Walking back into the living room, it suddenly dawns on Sam that it’s quiet. For just a few hazy seconds he can’t remember _why_ silence might be suspicious, but when it hits him that there’re a pair of mini-supersoldiers staying with him, Sam’s heart leaps to his throat. Too quiet either means they’re up to no good or they’re passed out. Or… well, he doesn’t want to think about the other option. Holding his breath for what he might find this time, Sam tiptoes back to Steve’s room -- Steve, it seems, is the mastermind behind their evil hijinx -- and eases the door open. 

What he sees finally makes him understand what his mother meant all those times she said _thank god you’re cute_. Steve and Bucky are snuggled together in the racecar bed. Heads pressed together and Steve’s blanket wrapped around both sets of shoulders. Steve’s hugging his bear, and Bucky’s blanket is draped over his left arm and sucking his thumb. If it’s not the most adorable thing Sam’s ever seen, he doesn’t know what is. Sam even pulls out his phone to snap a picture. If anything, blackmail. For… whenever this whole ordeal is over and done with. 

***

“A _week_ , Stark,” Sam grumbles as Steve and Bucky hang off his arms insisting they be taken outside to play. “It’s been _a week_!” 

One full week of running after de-aged Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, and Sam’s about ready to sleep for three. 

This is what they’ve concluded so far: they’re around the ages of four and five roughly. Steve has pretty much nothing left of the serum in him at all, which leaves him allergic to virtually everything and with horrible asthma and anemia and arrhythmia and bad blood pressure, has flat feet and scoliosis, and it leaves everyone wondering how in the hell Steve ever made it past infancy. Bucky’s got some kidified version of the serum left in him, which is probably why Sam’s got a small fist-sized bruise still on his outer thigh from when he punched him last week and why the metal arm is able to stay attached with no real problems. 

Bruce theorizes that the age differences isn’t because of their real age differences, but because Steve actually grabbed onto the Time Gem while Bucky only grabbed onto Steve. Same with the change in their serums. 

Unfortunately, none of this is getting them any closer to bringing them _back_ to their normal ages. And while Steve and Bucky are enjoying their lives on the compound just fine, Sam… well… Sam would like things to go back to the way things _used_ to be. Quite frankly, scrubbing finger paint off the wall and sauce off fingers and faces and chasing down two little kids because one wants astronaut pajamas and the other wants Iron Man pajamas -- yeah, Tony _loved_ that one -- really isn’t the highlight of being an Avenger.

“Workin’ on it, Birdman,” Tony replies as he adds something to a beaker that makes Bruce and Dr. Cho exclaim in a way that doesn’t bode well for Sam’s nightly sleeping pattern. “We’re makin’ some progress.” 

“Few problems,” Bruce tells him. “One--”

“Sammy!” Steve shouts.

“--We gotta figure out a way to decelerate the age generation otherwise we might end up with two ancient versions of them.”

“Sam! Sam! Sam!” Bucky eggs Steve on while tugging hard enough on Sam’s arm it knocks him a bit off balance as he tries to listen to Bruce. 

“And two, we need to make sure the serum is still intact.”

“Yeah,” Tony chimes in. “We want _our_ Cap and Winter Soldier back, right?”

“And three,” Dr. Cho adds while Bucky tries to climb up Sam’s leg and Steve pulls on his shirt. “We need to make sure the serum is still working.” 

“Yeah, but--” Sam cuts himself off and looks down at the two little monsters climbing all over him and grunts. “Guys, c’mon, cut it out. Go… go attack Iron Man.” 

“Wait, what?!”

Steve and Bucky jump away from him with a squeal of laughter and lunge for Tony. Iron Man or not, he’s so unprepared for it, that he tumbles backwards on onto the floor with the two kids crawling all over him. 

Now that he’s free of them, Sam turns his attention to Bruce and Helen.

“Have you made _any_ process?” he asks. Hopes and waits. “I’m goin’ a little outta my mind here.”

_“Oh, c’mon, Sam,” Riley says. “You’ve been doin’ great.”_

A smile quirks at the corner of Sam’s mouth. He hopes that’s something Riley would really think. 

“Oh, sure,” Bruce tells him. Waves him on over to one of the computers. “Watch this.” 

What it is, is a video of a potted plant. Just a little bud sprouting from fresh soil. Tony’s then on the screen, spouting off a bunch of words and, thankfully, Bruce mutes it, claiming it’s not necessary to listen to any of it. Tony carefully places the plant inside a microwave looking thing where the gem that started this mess is a compartment in the back of it. Once the door is closed, they turn a dial on the side and a bright light shines from the gem. Right in front of Sam’s eyes, the plant begins to blossom in seconds, until roots and vines are crawl throughout the entire machine. 

“See that?” Bruce claps Sam’s back. “Pretty cool, right?” 

Sam can admit that it’s cool all right, but he’d really like to know what this does for him getting things back to normal around here. 

“What we need to do now,” Helen says, “is figure out a way to regulate the acceleration.”

“Which means…” Tony’s back over now holding both Steve and Bucky by the back of their shirts. “We need our space. So.”

Tony hands them both over at the same time and Sam’s arms are full of mini-supersoldiers who tightly hug him as though they’ve been separated for years.

“Sammy!” they exclaim. “Le’s go play! Play with us, Sammy!”

Despite the craziness of it all, Sam can’t help chuckling and agreeing to take them to the new indoor park that Tony’s had installed just for them. Steve and Bucky cheer excitedly, throwing hands somehow still sticky with syrup from today’s frozen waffle breakfast in the air. 

Sam sets them down, takes their hands and heads out of the lab for the playground. As they walk, Steve holds his teddy bear by the paw, swinging him back and forth. He’s really becoming attached to that thing. Speaking of which, gripped in Bucky’s hand and trailing behind him, is his blue blanket. When Sam was little he had a yellow dog he used to take _everywhere_. He named it ‘woof-woof’. 

“I’mma gonna go swings first, Sammy,” Steve tells him as they wait for the elevator, pulling himself on Sam’s arm just enough that he can swing a little from it. 

“No, me!” Bucky shouts. “I got ‘em first!”

“You can _both_ go on the swings,” Sam says. “There’s _three_ of them.”

Bucky steps in front of them and looks up at Sam. He holds his left hand out, fingers spread, and starts to count. 

“That’s one swing for me.” He touches his index finger. “And one swing for Steeb.” Then the middle and the ring. “And one swing for _you_ , Sammy!”

Smiling, Sam nods and tousles Bucky’s hairs. “That’s right, kid.”

When the elevator dings and the doors open, Sam’s surprised to find it not empty. Maria Hill steps out with a smirk on her face. 

“Well, hello there, Samuel,” she greets as she steps out.

“Uh, hey, um, hi, Maria.” Sam’s throat, for some reason, feels tight. “Boys, say hello to Maria.” 

Since Maria isn’t on the compound as often as everyone else, Steve and Bucky seem a bit more shy around her. They cling to Sam’s pants and peer around his legs, each giving her a quiet _hello, Maria_. 

“Wow. That is… weird,” she says after addressing Steve and Bucky by name. Maria shakes her like she’s just experienced a full body chill and then gives her attention back to Sam. “How is everything?” 

Heart behaving strangely, Sam opens his mouth to answer only to find nothing but air coming out. 

_Okay, Wilson_ , he tells himself. _Just be cool. Smooth_.

 _“You mean like you were when you asked me out the first time?”_ _Riley says. “What was it again? ‘Do you wanna date a movie with me tonight?’”_

_Thank you, Riley._

Sam clears his throat and shrugs. He can do this. He can pull of an air of nonchalance. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal anyway. It’s just Maria. They’re just co-workers. Friends. That’s all.

 _“Sure, babe_. _”_

“What, you mean me? Here? This whole thing?” Still holding Steve and Bucky’s hands, he gestures with them as if they’re the least of his worries. “Nah, it’s cool. I got this whole thing handled. It’s nothing. Total piece of cake. Stark can take his sweet ass time and let Banner and Dr. Cho take a nice long vacation and it’d be _smooth_ sailing for Sam Wilson.”

_“Right. Real smooth, Wilson.”_

Eyebrows lifting just a fraction, Maria gives him a crooked smile and folds her arms. 

“Really? Because right now Captain America has his fingers up his nose and the Winter Soldier has his hand in his pants.” 

“Wha--guys! No!” Sam hurries to fix both those little situations and then ushers them into the elevator. “I gotta… I gotta get them to the playground before they combust. Say, uh, say goodbye to Maria.”

They’re both pulling him farther into the elevator while saying their goodbye’s, happy that they’re getting a move on.

“I’ll, uh, see you. Next time.” Sam tugs at the collar of his shirt. “When you’re here.”

Maria smiles. “Yes. And maybe if--”

The elevator doors close before she finishes that and Sam clunks his head against the wall. His tongue definitely wasn’t all that cooperative just now. Cool and smooth was in short supply. 

“Sammy! C’mon!” 

“Okay, okay,” Sam grumbles. “FRIDAY, can you take us to the playground, please?”

“Sure thing, Mr. Wilson.” 

As soon as the doors open again, Steve and Bucky make a dash for the swings. When they’re just a few feet away, Bucky says something about it being a race and that he wins, Steve shrieks how that’s not fair and that he cheated. 

“Don’t worry about it, Steve,” Sam mumbles when Steve calls for Bucky’s head. “Just get on the swing.” 

Which he can’t quite do on his own so he needs to wait until he puts his bear down and Sam gets over to lift him onto it. He also demands to be pushed and squeals when Sam does. 

“Me next, me next!” Bucky’s sitting on his blanket and swinging his legs back and forth. “Hurry, Sammy!”

“Y’know,” Sam says, “A _please_ might be nice.”

“Please!” he exclaims. “Please, please, _please_!” 

Sam gives him a gentle push and Bucky laughs his head off just like Steve. He’s able to keep a steady back and forth for awhile until they get bored of that and decide they want to go on the slide. Steve nearly falls off the swing trying to get down so he can grab his bear to take it with him. 

While they’re off doing that, Sam takes a second to just sit down on the middle swing. He leans his head against the chain. Let’s his arms just fall to the sides. Most of his weight ends up leaning on the chain of the swing. Damn, he’s exhausted. Sam can’t even keep his mouth open. 

So when one of the boys is suddenly shouting his Sam, he’s startled so badly, he nearly falls off the swing. Sam just manages to grab hold of the swing’s chains and hoist himself back up, his stomach leaping to his throat. 

“What? What?” He looks around, sure someone’s hurt. “What’s wrong?” 

Next to him, Bucky is swinging on the swing again, this time flat on his stomach. He’s grinning up at Sam with a huge smile. 

Sam sighs. “What? What is it?”

“How come doesn’t your mouth work when you talk to her?”

“What?”

“How come doesn’t your mouth work when you talk to her?” Bucky repeats with five-year-old determination. 

Sam shakes his head. Confused. “Why doesn’t my mouth work when I talk to her?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Talk to who?”

He pushes himself up and swings back again. When he passes by Sam, he gives his answer.

“Maria.” 

Flushing, Sam turns away. He’s not entirely sure why. It’s silly to even feel any rush of embarrassment. It’s not like this is the _real_ Bucky asking. Or, hell, maybe this is _more_ real. They’re closer now, sure. They share drinks -- not that Bucky can get drunk, not without the help of Thor’s Asgardian liquor poured in there. They kid and have had heart-to-hearts. They’re good friends. But they respect each other’s boundaries. Even when they’re invisible. 

_This_ Bucky, well, his young and innocent mind might not be able to pick up on those boundaries. 

_“Not to mention that fact that you refuse to_ really _let yourself get close to anyone.”_

_I’m a little busy with other things right now._

“My mouth works when I talk to her,” Sam answers Bucky. “You just saw me talk to her.” 

Feet skidding across the floor, Bucky stops his swing and slips off it onto his knees, his shirt almost lifting all the way over his head as he does. He picks up his blanket and puts it over his head like a hood. 

“Nah-ah.” He shakes his head. “It’s does like this.” 

Bucky takes hold of his top and bottom lip and pulls them in different directions. Sam snorts and tells him to cut it out. 

_“He might be onto something, babe.”_

_You cut it out, too._

***

One week turns into two. 

Two into three. 

Before Sam knows it, a full month has gone by and no one is any closer to figuring a way to change Steve and Bucky back to normal. 

Somehow, Sam’s figured out some sort of a new daily routine. If the boys let him sleep past seven, it’s a good day. If he doesn’t hear them snickering out the living room instead of one of their bedrooms before seven, that’s an even _better_ day. 

Breakfast is the easiest. A bowl of sugary cereal -- Sam doesn’t _not_ care what the leading doctors have to say on the matter, the brighter and more colorful, the better -- will do the trick. Bucky takes his with milk; Steve without. Sometimes they’ll change it up on him and ask for eggs, but that’s still simple enough because neither of them take their eggs any other way than scrambled. Sam drowns Steve’s in ketchup for him, while Steve says Bucky is weird for not liking ketchup. Sam will scold Steve for the comment every time, but, has to agree on that. 

After breakfast, Steve and Bucky are two bundles of buzzing energy, so television or bedroom play or coloring or blocks are just not gonna cut it. Not if Sam wants to keep them from burning the place down. Thanks to Pepper’s tireless efforts, there’re all sorts of ways for Sam to keep them busy now. 

In addition to the playground, half the gym has been converted into a kiddy bike park -- filled with tricycles and scooters and ride-along-toys. They each have the newest model of the McLaren Power Wheels in bright orange. Both of them are nicer than any car Sam’s ever driven, toy cars or not. 

There’s the Olympic-sized pool, too. Even with swimmies and lifejackets on them, Steve and Bucky are terrors and it horrifies Sam every second they’re there. They’re just completely fearless, which really shouldn’t be all that surprising, given that they’re Captain America and the Winter Soldier, but every time one of them canonballs off the side or climbs up the ladder to use the diving board -- _“No, Steve, you can’t use the_ bigger _one, get_ down _from the-- Bucky, no, you can’t follow him! Get down both of you_! -- Sam’s heart just leaps to his throat. 

Clint and Laura have brought their kids over a few times on the weekends. Their oldest, Cooper, plays soccer and their middle, Lila, dances, so it all depends on their schedule, but when them come, they all have a good time together even though the Barton kids are older. Plus, with Clint and Laura around, Sam’s not the only one having to supervise. 

Lunchtime is when things begin to become complicated. The answer to _what do you want for lunch_ should be worth Tony’s entire fortune because on most days it can take upward to an hour just to come up with an answer other than _I don’t know._

The classic, simple solution of peanut butter and jelly is out because Steve is allergic to peanuts. Sometimes grilled cheese sandwiches will go over just fine. Or bologna. Tunafish even. The problems comes from the fact that if one says yes to a sandwich that the other doesn’t want, the whole process starts all over again. 

After lunch, Sam is able to get away with less strenuous activities. Television is good for a little while. There are certain shows they simply adore that will get them singing and dancing along. The still ever popular _Dora_ , for example, has them up on their feet twisting and turning and shooing that dang Swiper away. And, damn it, if they can’t get Sam to join in on their fun almost every time they ask. 

“Come on, Sammy!” Steve will shout. “Come watch with us!”

“Yeah!” Bucky agrees. “You can help us!” 

Unable to help himself, Sam usually does. He’ll sit in between them, or with one on his lap and the other on his shoulders, and, together, they’ll shout out shapes and letters and numbers to help whatever character needs it. 

“You two are _so_ smart!” Sam will exclaim, rolling them onto their backs and tickling their tummies. “Why do you need _my_ help, anyway?” 

“Because!” They giggle and roll around under his tickling hand. “We just _because_! We do!” 

Coloring is another good one. They both like it. Making pictures or using coloring books, but it’s Steve that enjoys it more. Steve will sit at the table for over an hour or sometimes even two with a box of crayons and fill up several sheets of papers. Between Steve and Bucky, Steve’s actually better at staying in the lines. He’ll hold a crayon tightly between all his fingers, bite down on his tongue like he’s concentrating extremely hard, and take his time until he’s satisfied with his entire four-year-old masterpiece. 

That’s actually how they find out that Steve is colorblind. 

“Buck-bee, I needed the red,” Steve said while, admittedly, all three of them sat at the kitchen table coloring in Disney books. He hadn’t even put the crayon he was using down yet. 

“What do you say, Steve?” Sam reminded him before looking up from his own work of art -- a picture of Goofy, Riley’s favorite, _“Why, thank you, my dear, he’s just wonderful.” --_ only to notice that Steve already had the red crayon. 

Steve huffed. “ _Please_ , Buck-bee? Can I haved the red crayon?” 

Bucky looked among the mess of crayons in front of him before seeing the same thing Sam did. 

“You already _have_ the red crayon, Steeb,” he scoffed. 

“No, the _other_ red crayon.” Steve was getting aggravated, his cheeks turning pink and jaw tightening. “The one _you_ gots! The grayer one.” 

Sam’s eyes, like Bucky’s, dropped to the crayon Bucky’d been using to color in the grass that Donald and Daisy were standing in. Bucky rolled his eyes. 

“This is _green_ , dummy.” 

“Bucky.” Sam shot him a warning look and gently took the crayon from him. “Steve… what color is this?”

Looking at the crayon like it was a trick question, Steve struggled with it for a few moments before Sam assured him that it was okay to just tell him whatever he color he thought it was. Eyes on his lap, Steve fiddled with his fingers before he finally did. 

“It’s… the other red,” he said again. A little more insistent this time. “The gray one.” 

Crayon still in hand, Sam placed his other on Steve’s head and grinned while suggesting they go take a trip to see Dr. Cho. But Steve’s eyes went wide, and he shook his head in absolute refusal. At first, Sam assumed Steve didn’t want to be taken to her out of fear of more medical exams. Strange, that. Especially since he’d seen her plenty of times since those first round of exams and never shown any fear. Turned out that wasn’t it at all anyway. 

“I want to finish!” he exclaimed. “I’m not doned with my picture!” 

Chuckling, Sam handed over the crayon Steve wanted and told him he could finish first. 

As suspected, Helen did conclude that Steve was colorblind. When Steve asked if he had to stop coloring because of it, Sam picked him up and hugged him and told him there was nothing to be ashamed of. That his pictures were just as beautiful now as they were before they knew he was colorblind. Eye filled with glossy tears, Steve smiled and smothered his face in Sam’s shoulder. When Sam put him back down, Bucky immediately took him by the hand. 

“What’re you doin’, Buck-bee?” Steve wiped his arm across his eyes, like he didn’t want Bucky to see him crying. “I--”

“C’mon, Steeb, I got’s’ta show you!” He tugged Steve towards Steve’s bedroom. “Sammy, you gotta too! Come!” 

So, Sam followed along, and what he saw when he got to Steve’s room with them made him want to both yell and laugh hysterically. All over Steve’s room -- on the walls, the dresser, the bookcase, the doors, even the bed -- were his drawings. They’d either been torn out of coloring books or just drawn on scrap paper, but all of them had been _pasted_ around the room. 

“See, Steeb?” Bucky said excitedly. “It’s like a ‘usuem now! Of Steeb’s art!” 

Awestruck, as though it was an actual museum and he’d never seen any of the pictures before, Steve’s jaw dropped. He barely even got it closed to ask why Bucky had done it. 

“Because.” Bucky ducked his head down shyly. “Because you’re… you’re my bestest friend, Steeb.”

Lip trembling, Steve held back tears before throwing himself into Bucky’s arms, causing the two of them to tumble to the ground. 

“You’re my besting friend, too, Buck-bee.” 

The glands in Sam’s throat felt too tight watching them. Even with all that was happening, all their bickering and banter, Steve and Bucky were still… _them_. Somehow, after everything they’d gone through -- and maybe, for them, it’s been hell and back again -- they’ve always managed to find their way back to each other. 

Sam didn’t begrudge them one second of their time together. If anyone deserved it, it was them. He just couldn’t help the ache in his heart when he thought of reaching out for a hand and grabbing only air. 

_“You can grab a hand, love,” Riley tried to say. “All you have to do is try reaching again.”_

“Not now, babe,” Sam whispered. He didn’t need to listen to his inner Riley lecture him about moving on and opening up more to others again. “I got this to deal with.” 

And Sam does deal with it. From morning, till afternoon, till night. When he now only makes pretty much only three things for dinner: mac and cheese, pizza, or chicken nuggets. 

Dinner time can last over an hour because of how fussy they are during that time of day. Most days, they’ll pass out about two hours or so after lunch, and Sam will relish in that quiet time to himself, but he doesn’t let them sleep all that long. Still, the two reenergized little kids want nothing to do with sitting down eating dinner when all they want to do is get up and play, no matter how after they go through the same thing. 

“When you finish your dinner,” Sam will say, “you can finish your game.”

“I don’t wanna eat carrots,” Steve gripes, pushing the few, small carrot sticks around on his places. “I hate them.”

“There’s only three of them, Steve. They’re good for you. Bucky, c’mon, don’t play with your food.”

While Steve will try to find ways of getting out of eating what he doesn’t want to eat, Bucky very much enjoys trying to create food art. 

Of course, promises of receiving or threats of _not_ receiving desserts sometimes do the trick, and dinner will finally start to wind down. Then again, dessert is an event in and of itself. Ice cream makes a mess. Two cookies each are never enough. Fruits don’t count as dessert, apparently. Pudding cups are less messy than ice cream, but both Steve and Bucky end up trying to lick the remnants of their empty cups when they’re done. 

They’ve taken a great liking to his mother’s baked goodies. And Sam’s mama was completely delighted when Natasha and Rhodey brought her by to see what a good job Sam was doing. When she left the next morning, it was gushing about the idea of having grandbabies one day. There’s only one little problem with it. 

“When is Grandma coming over again?” Bucky will ask. “I wanna play with Grandma!”

“Yeah!” Steve agrees. “Did she send more yummies?”

“No, guys, she’s not your… I… she…” Sam sighs. “Yeah. C’mon, there’s brownies for you. But only one! And then it’s time to get ready for bed!” 

A nightmare, every time. Soap suds all over bathroom mirror. Toothpaste smeared along the sink. Epic hunts for the right pair of pajamas. 

After Sam manages to wrestle them into pajamas, they settle in for some down time. An episode of a quiet, less exciting show. A bedtime story -- sometimes two or three. Then Sam is required to tuck both of them in. First Bucky, because he’s older.

Tucking Bucky in means fluffing the pillow behind him, pulling the blanket up to just his waist, and then wrapping his beloved blue blanket around his shoulders -- _blue blankie_ , he calls it. A kiss on the top of the head and a _sweet dreams, buddy_. 

Then it’s Steve’s turn. Who waits in Bucky’s doorway with his stuffed bear held tightly under his arm. Like Bucky’s blanket, Steve doesn’t go anywhere without his bear -- Bucky Bear, he named it, though he still can’t quite pronounce it correctly. 

When Sam’s done tucking Bucky in, Steve’ll lift his arms up, bear held in his hand, and wait for Sam to pick him up and carry him to his room. Steve immediately rolls onto his side and gets the blankets up to shoulders so that Bucky Bear’s tucked in with him with his little head sticking out. Both Steve and Bucky Bear get kisses. 

In theory, that should be the end of the night for them and give Sam a bit of time to just relax by himself. Again, in theory. Because it’s around this time that Steve’s bladder shrinks two sizes and Bucky needs to ask every unanswerable question about the universe and the pair of them just _need_ to have more hugs and kisses. 

They sneak into each others rooms for more playtime. If they’re too noisy about it, Sam’ll separate them again. If they play quietly, Sam might permit it until they fall asleep. 

Anything to give Sam a little bit of peace before the whole thing starts all over again in the morning. 

Some of it, Sam has to admit, is fun. They may be less than half their size now, but Steve and Bucky can still make him laugh his ass off. In different ways now than dirty jokes and swearing and obscene gestures. Now it’s with silly faces and random questions about the moon and answers like _Mickey Mouse locked the door, not us_! 

It makes him exceedingly proud that one word or look is usually enough to get them to stop doing whatever they were doing and a pair of puppy dog eyes. 

Sam kinda likes that everyone defers to him in all matters concerning Steve and Bucky. If it’s movie night and Pepper wants to give them an extra snack, she checks with Sam before even letting them know she has anything for them. If Rhodey wants to take them to the gym -- where Sam suspects he’s secretly flown them as War Machine -- he makes sure it’s okay with Sam first. If Natasha brings back a toy, she hides it until Sam lets her give it to them. 

The biggest problem in this isn’t running after Steve and Bucky when they just won’t calm down or watching Pre-K cartoons or fighting with them just to get them to eat something. It’s not waking up at the butt crack of dawn to find the living room flooded with water because they wanted to play car wash or having the shit scared out of him when he can’t find them because they’re hiding in a closet. 

No, it’s the fact that doing all this is only making Sam see how much he misses this. The closeness to someone. The openness. The connection. Someone who depends on him. 

He starting to realize that he has made friends, sure. Sam has friends in Steve and Bucky, Natasha and Rhodey and Tony and Clint. All of the Avengers. But he hasn’t let them in. Not really. He holds them at arm’s length -- even Steve, the only one in the world he might consider his _best_ friend. 

And for all the counseling he provides for others, Sam really isn’t sure how to fix it. 

***

Water splashes over the side of the tub, soaking into the knees of Sam’s pants. Suds slide along the floor. For a few seconds Sam just stares at the wall. Past it. At nothing. 

He takes in a deep breath. A superhero. An Avenger. The Falcon. He can do this. He ignores the water soaking into his pants and puddling on the floor and just goes on shampooing Steve’s hair. 

“Sammy,” Steve huff and fidgets about. “I don’t wanna take a bath!”

“You know what _I_ don’t want to do, Steven?” Sam asks. “ _I_ don’t want to mop up all the _ketchup_ that you and Bucky got all over the living room floor!”

“We was outta red fingerpaint!” Bucky, surrounded by a mountain of bubbles on the other end of the tub, jumps in with. “We hadda--”

“ _Ketchup_ ,” Sam interrupts, “Is _not_ fingerpaint!” 

“But…”

Sam shoots Bucky a look and that’s all it takes for Bucky to fold his lips in and keep his mouth shut. 

It’s not a good day. In fact, it hasn’t been a good day for the past couple of days. Steve and Bucky have just been all over the place. Up late at night and still up early in the morning. Barely any cooperation at mealtime or bedtime. Sam is almost at his wit’s end. 

“Don’t move, you,” Sam says to Steve after he rinses him off, wraps him in a big towel and sets him on the bath mat. He turns back to Bucky. “You’re next. And you’re both on time outs after you get dressed.” 

They both attempt a protest at that, one Sam shoots down immediately. No _way_ is he letting them get away with this. Even when they give him a mix of pouty and grumpy faces when puts them each end of the couch and instructs them not to move or talk as Sam gets to work scrubbing ketchup off the living room floor. 

After only five minutes, Steve is asking if they can get down. All it takes is a quick glare to make him clam up. Just a few minutes later, Bucky gives it a shot. 

“The more you ask,” Sam grumbles, “the longer you have to sit there.” 

Sam doesn’t have to turn around to know that Steve has slammed his arms across his chest with his chin up in the air while Bucky’s turned his head away with his fists clenched. He tries not to laugh, and it’s easy, when he rips off another bunch of paper towels to soak up more of the mess. 

He’s got most of it done when FRIDAY is letting him know that Tony is here to see him. 

“Okay, let ‘im on in, FRIDAY.” 

“Hey, Birdman!” Tony greets when he enters the room. “How goes i--” He looks around and shakes his head. “What happened in here?”

“I’ll give you one guess.” Sam looks over his shoulder to see Steve and Bucky shrinking into their shoulders. “Why don’t you ask _them_?”

“Okay, but, is that… _ketchup_?”

Sighing, Sam stands up and tosses the paper towels into the garbage. He looks back at Tony. Expectantly. 

“Oh. Right.” Tony gives him a finger gun. “So, I have some good news.” 

As Tony goes on to tell him that he and Bruce, along with Dr. Cho’s brilliant mind, that they’ve managed to slow down the acceleration rate, they think, at just enough time it should work. 

“...But?” Sam asks when Tony doesn’t go on. “There’s a but, right?”

“Sammy?”

“There’s a but.” Tony nods. “Yeah.”

“Sammy, can we get up now?”

“What’s the--”

“Sammy, Sammy?”

“--but?”

“Well, there still might be--”

“Sammy!”

“What?!” Sam spins around to face Steve and Bucky who, drop back down from their knees to their sitting on their bottoms like they’re supposed to be. “What is it?”

They exchange a quick glance before Bucky quietly asks, “Can we go play now?”

Sam sighs, rubbing his fingers into his temples. His pants are still wet from giving them their bath and there’s still more to clean of their mess and he still has the rest of the day to get through. Something tells him the headache creeping in is gonna be a bad one. 

“Yeah.” He shoos them off. “Go inside and color.” 

Without giving him the chance to change his mind, Steve and Bucky scramble off the couch -- Bucky Bear and Blue Blanket with them -- and hustle into the kitchen where they can color. 

“Sorry,” Sam huffs and turns his attention back to Tony. “You were saying?”

Tony watches him with careful eyes for a moment before asking, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s…” He rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry, they’ve been a handful the past few days. No big deal.” 

Nodding, Tony goes on to tell him about that ‘but’ he was trying to explain before the kids interrupted. 

“The one thing we need to work out now is the serum,” he explains. “Once we’re sure we’re getting back Capsicle and Metal Soldier, and not just two incredibly in shape hundred year olds, we should be good to go.” 

Toys are littered around the room. Building blocks in the corner that are half-stacked into some sort of tower. Dinosaurs with toy soldiers and princesses trying to tame them, at least, that’s what Sam thinks is going on. Toy cars and interactive, loud, things that go off in the middle of the night. 

And, for a moment, Sam’s torn between being glad it’s going to be all cleared out and missing it already. 

“So, uh.” He clears his throat. “How long’s that gonna take?”

“Way I figure.” Tony rubs his chin between his fingers like he’s deep in thought. “‘Bout a--”

“Last time we went through this you said a week and now it’s over a month.” 

Tony holds his palms out to concede to that. “What can I say?”

“How about that you don’t--”

“Sammy!” 

Before Sam can get Tony to admit he just doesn’t know, Steve and Bucky come bursting back into the room. Big smiles on their faces. Steve’s got something in his hand. 

“What is it, you guys?” Sam asks. “Tony and I are--”

“Look, Sammy!” Steve holds what he has up. “Look what me and Buck-bee maded for just you!”

“Steeb mades it prettier!” Bucky adds. “With all the colors!”

Sam, about to brush them off with a simple _oh, yes, look how nice_ and a smile, takes a good look at what it is they’ve come back with and goes cold. Ice tumbles down his spine, breaking off in chunks and landing hard in his stomach. 

They’re still talking, Steve and Bucky. Maybe trying to get his attention, maybe completely unaware that he’s frozen in abject horror. All Sam can hear anyway is his pulse hammering in his ears. The world shrinks around him, and Sam just sees his favorite picture -- the _last_ picture ever taken -- of Riley and him colored all over with crayon. 

It’s a Polaroid. The squad had laughed so hard when Riley’s mom sent that old camera and film with a care package. But hell, did they have fun with it. All of them, snapping away and waving the picture like they knew they really weren’t supposed to just like the good old days when they were kids as they waited for the image to appear. Each of them got at least one to send home with little messages written on the bottom panels. 

Sam keeps it in his wallet, that picture, so it’s on him almost always. When it’s not in his wallet, it’s because he’s home and it’s by his bedside. Sam adores looking at it. Waking up to see it first thing and seeing it right before drifting off to dreamland. To see Riley’s face all lit up because right before the picture was snapped, Sam turned to press a kiss right into his cheek. 

Sam can remember how much Riley had laughed. How he threw his arms around him afterwards and then planted a kiss. How he looked Sam deep in the eyes like he’d never done before. 

“I’m gonna marry you,” he had said.

Sam chuckled. “Is that a proposal?”

“Nope.” Riley shook his head and pressed their brows together. “It’s just a fact, love.” 

That was the day before it happened. The day before Sam screamed when he saw and could do nothing but watch his Riley fall from the sky. Sam’s not sure if he’s stopped screaming since.

Now, Sam’s precious memory, his last wonderful memory of Riley is ruined. Completely ruined by crayon. It feels like someone’s holding Sam’s head underwater. Drowning him. 

Until he suddenly breaks free and bursts above the water’s surface, snatching the picture right out of Steve’s hand. 

“What is _wrong_ with you two?!” Sam screams. Outright _screams_. Steve’s face pales with shock as he takes a step back. “ _Why_ would you do this?!”

“But… Sammy--”

“No!” Sam interrupts whatever Steve’s excuse is, grabbing him by both shoulder and holding him just an inch from his face. “Why would you _take_ this out of my room?! Do you know what you did?! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?! What do I have now, huh?” He holds the picture up to Steve. “I can’t get this back! I can’t fix this! You two have ruined everything! _Everything_! My whole god damn life has gone to shit!” 

Sam’s not sure what makes him stop first -- Tony’s hand on his shoulder or the tears rolling down Steve’s cheeks. He looks at him now, for the first time, like he’s afraid of him. Just a few feet away, Bucky, also crying, buries his face in his blanket when Sam glances at him.

“Oh, god,” Sam whispers. “Steve… Bucky… I…” 

“Okay,” Tony says, and guides Steve away from Sam. “How about we give Sam a little break and you guys come upstairs and hang out with your best pal, Tony?” 

“But…” Bucky looks back at Sam as Tony takes him by the hand while carrying Steve at the hip. “Is… Tony… is Sammy hates us?”

“Nah. No worries, Metal Buddy. He’s just sad right now, but he’ll be okay.” 

Tony glances back just before the leave. A confident sort of glance, as though he’s sure of everything he’s saying. He gives Sam a quick nod as if to say he’s got this and then Sam, for the first time in over a month, is alone. 

The tears come on sudden and hard. Or maybe they’ve been there the whole time, Sam’s not sure. He just pulls his knees up to his chest, ruined picture clutched in his hands, and sobs. 

He’s not entirely sure what he’s crying for. Sam supposes he can be crying for more than one thing at the same time. The way Steve and Bucky looked at him. So frightened. Knowing that _he_ put that look in their eyes. Knowing that somewhere deep inside of him is something horrible and dark just waiting to come out that _can_ do that. Missing his Riley. His sweet, sweet Riley. 

_“I’m still here, Sam.”_

“No,” Sam whispers. “You’re not. You’re not real. You’re just a stupid coping mechanism. Just a figment of my imagination.” 

_“Why does that make me not real?”_

Sam scoffs. “Because if you were _real_ I could _actually_ argue with you, Riley, I can’t but you’re _not_ here!”

_“We did have some pretty good arguments.”_

“Don’t you try to say you won most of ‘em. You know that’s crap.”

Just sitting there on the floor, leaned back against the couch with tears slipping one by one, Sam brushes his thumb against the picture. Feels the roughness of the crayon markings where there once was just the smooth feel of the glossy photo. He tries to scrape the colors off with his nail, but that doesn’t work and just starts to damage the picture itself. He sighs and trembles. Cries some more. 

_“It’s just a picture, love.”_

A tightness pushes against Sam’s chest. Makes it hard to breathe. It’s almost like something inside of him is desperate to claw its way out. 

“I know,” Sam says. “But… but I miss you so much, Riley,” he cries. “I don’t want you to be gone. You said you were gonna marry me. Said it was a fact. And you didn’t.”

_“Sorry. I was busy. Being dead.”_

Sam bursts out laughing through his tears, wishing he could hear Riley say that outloud. Riley would’ve said it, Sam knows it. Of course he does, that’s why he thought it. 

“It hurts, baby. I--” Sam’s voice hitches. “I want it to stop hurting.”

_“Maybe it can. At least a little.”_

Eyes filling with more tears, Sam glances at the rest of the mess he was in the middle of cleaning. He can’t deal with it right now. His breaths keep backing up on him, his nose is all stuffed up. Sam doesn’t care. All he does is trudge to his bedroom and drop onto his bed, right over the covers, and falls asleep with his pictured hugged to his chest. 

***

The smell of coffee wakes him. Good coffee. Even just the scent of it hanging in the air is revitalizing. Sam sits up and rubs his eyes, trying to remember whether or not he put on a pot before before resting. Probably not. The coffee he’s got doesn’t smell like this. 

Sam’s nose is all stuffed up, his eyes puffy. It takes realizing there’s something in his hand for him to remember what happened. His picture -- all scribbled on with crayon because of Steve and Bucky -- is still in his hand. 

Everything that happened comes crashing down on him so fast and hard Sam almost can’t breathe. He trembles with its onslaught. 

All he can see are those two little faces that looked out at him with shock and fright. The way he yelled, so forceful and _mean_ , at Steve and Bucky -- Sam didn’t know such a part of him existed. Yes, it was Steve and Bucky he yelled at, but they’re _children_ right now and he _knows_ that and _they_ didn’t know any better about what they were doing. 

Panic wraps around his throat. What if he’s screwed up so badly that they’re too afraid to even come back? What if Sam’s screwed them up that something happens when they’re back to normal and have some sort of PTSD? Worse than they already have. 

Taking in a deep breath, Sam runs his fingers over the picture before placing it on the nightstand. A few more tears prick at his eyes but he can’t worry about them now. Sam, wiping at his eyes, gets up to leave and finds why there’s such good smelling coffee wafting through his place. 

“Oh,” he says when he sees Clint sitting with his feet up on his kitchen table. Arms across his chest and startled awaked when Sam walks in. “I should have known.” 

A sloppy grin pulls up on Clint’s mouth. “How was your nap? You feeling okay?” 

There’s only one reason Sam can think that Clint would be waiting for him. He’s surprised their bags aren’t already packed. Sam tries to hold back the chill that runs down his spine. 

“Are you going to take them?”

“What?” Clint’s eyebrows pull in. “Who? You mean Steve and Bucky?”

“Yeah.”

“Why would I do that?”

Sam just stares at him for a second, wondering if Clint even knows what happened. He must. He has to. What else would he be doing here waiting for him while Sam was sleeping?

“Because… because I…”

“Because you yelled at them?” Clint chuckles. “You think you’re the first person to yell at kids, Sam?”

“You didn’t hear me, Clint.” Sam sits down, head in his hands. “You didn’t see their faces. They were scared of me. Steve and Bucky were... they--”

“They’re _kids_ , buddy. They’re pretty resilient.” He shrugs. “C’mon, you don’t think every parent or guardian or babysitter or whatever has just lost it at least once? It _happens_. You’re only human. And, yeah, they’re Steve and Bucky, and they remember _us_ , but other than that, they’re just like every other kid out there.” Clint gets up and pours Sam a cup of coffee. Coffee that he brought with him, obviously. “They’ll be okay, I swear. But I came here for you. To see if _you_ were okay.” 

Not sure if he heard that right, Sam picks his head up and just blinks a few times. Maybe Clint doesn’t fully understand what happened. Maybe Tony didn’t explain it right. 

“Clint, I told them they ruined everything. What kind of a person says that to little kids?” 

“The kind who’s just had something irreplaceable destroyed,” Clint says. “And not some ridiculous, pricey thing. That meant something to you. That was a piece of you, Sam That’s why I’m here. That’s why I wanna know how _you’re_ doing.” 

Stomach turning, Sam doesn’t want to think about the picture. He knows that’s not an option though. Sure, he can put it off now, but as soon as he goes back into his bedroom, it’s going to be sitting right there. A piece of him, like Clint said, ripped away. 

“I don’t…” His throat swells. “I don’t know. I’m just… I don’t know what to do. I’m just so… I’m so…” 

Sam doesn’t realize he’s crying again until Clint is scooting his chair closer and handing him a tissue. 

“You know it’s okay, right?”

“What is?”

“To be mad. Sad. To not know which you feel.” Clint hugs him around the shoulders. “Life is overwhelming already. Randomly add two kids to the mix the way it happened to you? I’m amazed you didn’t run screaming.”

Sam can’t help it. Tears and all, he has to hold back a smile. One that makes Clint back up and first look over himself like he’s worried he put his shirt on backwards again before giving Sam a baffled look of his own. 

“What?” Clint asks. “What’s that look for?” 

“I’m the one who counseled at the VA,” he says. “You’re the one who trips over your own feet because you try to tie your laces while walking. When did you get so insightful?” 

“Hey! I’ll have you know I am very insightful,” Clint replies as he takes a drink of his coffee and dribbles some down the front of his shirt. He flicks his eyes back at Sam. Mumbles, “Shut up.”

Wiping at his eyes, Sam gets out a tearful chuckle. “Didn’t say anything, man.” 

Sam stares down at the cup of coffee he hasn’t even taken a sip of yet. It really does smell good. He wishes he could keep it just like this. The thin swirl of steam rising out and dancing for him. The warmth. But it won’t last. It’ll fade to just a cold, bland drink, no matter how gourmet or good it is now. If he doesn’t enjoy it now, he might never get the chance. 

_“Oh, Sam,” Riley whispers. “You know that’s not true. As long as you’re alive, you can always get another cup of coffee.”_

A smile touches Sam’s lips. Slight, but it’s there. There are still so many emotions gushing through him, but they’re beginning to settle enough that he can at least make sense of them. Sam can start to sort through them. 

“Did you know I’m almost completely deaf?” 

Head snapping back up, Sam is sure he must have heard that wrong. No one’s ever mentioned Clint having any hearing problems. He’s never seemed to have any trouble hearing them.

“What?”

“Yeah.” Clint nods. “Happened a few years ago. It was… well, it changed everything.” He gently presses the tip of his finger against his ear and removes a tiny device, completely unnoticeable until he called attention to it. “Pretty amazing, huh? I’ve been teaching Steve to sign.” 

Funny that Steve never mentioned that in the past. Sam can easily understand why he’d never say anything about Clint’s hearing if Clint asked him not to, but the signing is unusual. Sam’s always encouraged him to learn new things to help with his PTSD. Not to mention learning sign language _would_ be right up Steve’s alley. Any way that makes him able to help more people. 

“Really?” Sam asks. “He never told me.” 

Clint chuckles. “Well, he’s only about four-years-old. S’not that surprising he didn’t think to say anything.” 

“Wait.” Sam shakes his head. “You mean, you _just_ started to teach him?”

“Yeah. When I found out that he couldn’t hear out of one ear, I thought it might be nice for him. Y’know, make ‘im feel special.”

Thinking back over the past few weeks, Sam can recall Steve playing alone when Bucky was still taking a nap or busy with something else -- rare as that was -- and talking to himself. Whenever Sam checked in to ask who he was talking to, assuming it was some imaginary playmate, Steve would look down and shake his head. Tell him no one. Maybe he was practicing what Clint had taught to him. 

“You think it’ll be alright if I go see them?” Sam asks. “Will they still be upset?”

Surprise passes over Clint’s face. His mouth opens like he means to say one thing and then decides on another. 

“Sure. I mean, yeah, you can go see them and I doubt they’ll still be upset. But are you sure _you’re_ ready?” 

Taken back by such a question, Sam almost drops the cup of coffee he nearly forgot he was holding. 

“What? Why wouldn’t I be ready? Because I got mad at them? I’m not mad anymore. I’m… I mean… I’m just… I’m not gonna yell or hurt them or anything. You trust me, right?”

“Oh, yeah, Sam!” Clint assures him. “Course I do. We all do. And it’s not that. Not that at all.”

“Then…”

“Are _you_ ready, Sam? Do you need a longer break? Some more time to yourself? It’s only been about an hour. You haven’t had much of a break in over a month.”

Guilt rivers through him at the suggestion. At the appeal of it. He can’t help it. As much as they’re just Steve and Bucky -- his two friends going through some crazy ordeal -- they’re _his_ Steve and Bucky. Sam can’t really explain it. They’re not his kids, he knows that, but for now they are. Somehow, over the past few weeks, those two little knuckleheads have wiggled their way into his heart in this pure and innocent way like no one else ever has. 

But there’s still a part of him that wants to take Clint up on that offer. It doesn’t have to be for long. He could just…

“I could maybe shower?” he says as though he needs permission. “Just, take a little time to straighten up a bit?” 

“Sure!” Clint exclaims. “Do what you gotta, buddy! Take all the time you need. Sleep some more, snack, do nothing! You deserve it. Tony’s got them covered for now.” 

Sam breaks out in a laugh. A fun, easy going emotion starts to ease back through him with it and it feels good. 

“Actually, I think I’m more worried about Tony than them.” 

***

A few hours to himself do feel good, Sam has to admit that. He gets the chance to relax in the shower without the worry that he’ll exit the bathroom to some huge mess. Sam considers taking some time to get his suite really cleaned up, but his couch is just much too inviting. Especially being able to plop down on it in just his robe. For the rest of the time he takes to himself, Sam does _nothing_. He just relaxing on his couch with a bowl of popcorn and a cold soda while watching television that doesn’t feature brightly animated characters asking him to name shapes and colors and numbers.

After two movies, however, Sam clicks off the T.V. and finds himself growing bored. Sure, there’s plenty to do on the compound. The gym, the pool, plenty of space to fly. But that’s just not what Sam wants right now. 

Sam chuckles as he goes to get dressed. Leave it to Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes to make him all sentimental over _them_ as kids. 

“What am I gonna do when they’re back to normal?” 

_“Let them in like you’re letting them in now?” Riley suggests. “Just because they’re adults again doesn’t mean you can’t have something as good as this.”_

A smile twitches the corner of Sam’s mouth. He looks at the picture as he pulls his shirt on. The look of it is still a stab in the chest, but he still has it. And there are others. Plenty, actually, of him and Riley. 

“I’m trying, babe,” he says. “I swear.” 

All the more reason to go get them now. Assuming, of course, they’re resilient like Clint said, and _want_ to come back. There are knots in Sam’s stomach at the idea of them looking at him the same way they did when he left. 

There won’t be anything he can do about it. If they don’t want to come back, it’s not like Sam is going to make them. All Sam can do now is hope they do. 

When Sam reaches Tony’s floor, he can’t help the laugh that rumbles through him. He can hear Steve and Bucky’s loud and rambunctious voices before he even reaches the door. Tony’s voice mixes in with theirs as he attempts to get them to stop whatever it is they’re doing. 

“FRIDAY?” Sam says when he gets to the door. 

“Go on in, Mr. Wilson,” FRIDAY answers. “Mr. Stark says you’re welcome at anytime.” 

Smiling, Sam thanks the AI and goes in. His laughter picks up again when he sees what the fus is all about. Steve and Bucky are jumping up and down on the couch. Tony, back to Sam, is standing with his hands over his face like he’s out of ideas. There’re papers and crayons all over the floor, glitter all over the table. It’s hard to tell since they’re jumping on the couch, but it looks like Steve and Bucky have chocolate all over their faces. 

“We want Baze!” they shout as they jump. “Baze! Baze! Give us Baze!”

“I don’t know what that is!” Tony says into his palms. He throws his arms out and Sam could _swear_ he whines. “Tell me what it is and I’ll give it to you!”

“Baze is Baze!” Steve insists. “And orange!”

“And number one!” Bucky adds. “With A and J!” 

Tony smothers his face again, muttering a desperate _oh my god_ as he shakes his head back and forth. 

“FRIDAY?” Sam says, softly. Tony spins around immediately at the sound of his voice. “Could you play an episode of Blaze and the Monster Machines?” 

“Certainly, Mr. Wilson.” 

The television flicks on and, as soon as the theme music starts playing, Steve and Bucky start cheering and singing along -- as best they can anyway. Brightly colored monster trucks with faces drive across the screen, singing and dancing with their human companions. 

As it plays, and Steve and Bucky continue to jump on the couch watching, Tony just stares at the screen, shock plastered all over his face. He even points to the television. 

“That’s _all_ they wanted?” 

“Yep.”

“What _is_ this?”

“Blaze and the Monster Machines,” Sam answers. “It’s their favorite show.” 

Tony sighs and looks like he might want an explanation for whatever the hell goes on in this little animated show, but instead points to the boys still jumping and shakes his head. 

“And… how do you get…” He points to the couch, “this to stop?”

Pride rushes through him. Tony Stark can’t get them to stop and he needs Sam to help him. Sam was the one who knew what they wanted. He grins and then makes his face hard and stern. 

“Hey!” Sam claps his hands to grab their attention.

The very second he does it, both Steve and Bucky stop jumping and just stand on the cushions with their patent caught-red-handed looks. 

“Is that the way you use a couch?” Sam asks. He shakes his head. “No. Sit down. _Now_.” They both drop to their butts and give him their best innocent faces. “Better.” 

Everyone is quiet for a few moments as Sam waits for any indication that Steve and Bucky don’t want him there. So far, they just look like they’re trying to hold back giggles. Just like Clint said, they’ve appeared to move on from what happened. But that doesn’t mean Sam has. He needs to talk to them. 

“Hey.” He goes over to the couch and sits them both on each of his legs. They laugh when he bounces them. “C’mere, you two, I wanna talk.”

“Sammy!” they both exclaim and cuddle up to him. “We missed you.” 

“Yeah?” Sam smiles. “I missed you, too.” He hugs them close. “And I wanted you to know that I didn’t mean what I said. But I need you guys to remember you _can’t_ touch _my_ things. You have your toys to play with, but I was really sad when you colored over my picture. Because that was mine. You wouldn’t want me to cut Bucky Bear’s fur, right, Steve? Or make Blue Blanket another color, right, Bucky?” 

Eyes going wide, Steve and Bucky take a glance at the corner of the couch where their respective precious possessions are. 

“No.” 

“Nah-ah.” 

“Exactly.” Sam hugs them again. “But that doesn’t mean I should have yelled at you like that. So, I’m sorry.” 

After a few seconds, the boys go from looking at him, to slipping off his lap and running over to Tony. Sounds like they make an attempt to be quiet, but don’t do a very good job.

“Is it ready?” Steve asks. “Can it be dried?”

“We can give it to Sammy now, right, Tony?” Bucky asks. 

Tony grins and nods. Tells them it should be all good now and to go get it. Whatever _it_ is makes them excited and they run off giggling to go fetch it. 

“What’s goin’ on, Tony?” Sam questions. “I dunno if I can take anymore surprises.” 

“You’ll like this one, Birdman.” Tony claps a hand on Sam’s shoulder and jostles him. “Promise.” 

He’s just said it when Steve and Bucky come charging back into the room. Steve has something in his hands that Bucky is complaining that he should be able to hold too. 

“Look, look, Sammy!” Steve exclaims. “I made this!”

“No!” Bucky shouts after him. “ _We_! _We_ did!” 

Bucky just gets there just as Steve hands Sam a folded up piece of white construction paper. When Sam opens it, a whole load of glitter falls out and all over his lap. He chuckles. No wonder there’s glitter on the floor. They used it for their little project here. To make it sparkle and shine. Three stick figures, all holding hands with big smiles on their faces. The sun, which is both orange and yellow, in the partially colored sky. Either blue grass or water for the three people to stand on -- Sam assumes it’s the latter. 

“See? See?” Steve says. “You see? It’s… i-it’s us, Sammy!”

“We made us for you!” Bucky tells him. “Another picture. Cause we didn’t… we’re sorry we hurt your feelings.” 

Heart swelling, Sam thinks, under the circumstances, this might be one of the most wonderful gifts he’s ever gotten. 

“Do you like it?” Steve asks. “Is it nicest for you?”

“I maded the sky,” Bucky says. “The blue. I like the blue.” 

Sam snickers. “Yes. I love it. Thank you.” 

Folding his drawing in half once and then twice, Sam carefully puts it in his back pocket and then scoops them both up. Steve and Bucky giggle like crazy as they take a secure grip around him. First thanking Tony for his help, Sam starts asking them what they’d like to have for dinner as they leave. 

Since they ask for pizza -- and Sam is getting a little sick of frozen pizza, he suggests making it. There’s dough and sauce and cheese in the common room. Maybe they’ll have fun. The suggestion goes over even better than he expects. They light up at the idea. 

“We can help cook?” they exclaim, each in their own way. “Really? Really?” 

“Sure. You wanna try?”

“Yes! Yes, yes!”

Steve asks if he can punch the dough. Bucky asks if he can cut up the cheese. Sam tells them both _we’ll see._

Making the pizza, though messy, does turn out to be a lot of fun. The boys absolutely love thinking they’re the ones doing most of the work. Sam gives them much too big aprons that make them feel like hot shit and he even makes chef’s hats out of paper. 

The pizza comes out a little lopsided and a little overcooked but the proud look on Steve and Bucky’s faces makes it completely worth it. Especially when Tony, Nat, Clint, and Rhodey all come in for a piece of it as well. It doesn’t even matter that they make a bigger mess when trying to help with the dishes, getting soap suds all over the counter. They just keep asking if they’ve done a good job and Sam doesn’t have the heart to give them any critical remark. 

“Did you really like it, Sammy?” Bucky asks as they head back to Sam’s suite. 

“Yeah, it was good, right?” Steve also wants to know. “For really real?” 

Sam chuckles and is about to tell them -- for the hundreth time -- that yes, yes, they did a very good job, when the elevator doors open and all the words that gathered in his mouth disappear. 

“Oh, hello, Sam,” Maria greets, smirk dancing upon her lips. “Heard there’s some good pizza in there.” 

“Oh. Um.” Sam clears his throat. “Yeah. Uh…”

“We made it!” Steve tells her. “I put the cheese on and that’s the bestest part.”

“But I did the _sauce_ ,” Bucky counters. “It’s not no pizza with no sauces.” 

Seems even tough-as-nails Maria Hill isn’t immune to the innocent ways of these new versions of Steve and Bucky. She tries, unsuccessfully, to hold back a smile and laughs when she looks back at Sam. 

“They both made it,” Sam tells her. “They did a great job.”

They beam at him and then smile widely at Maria. Who laughs again before addressing Sam. 

“So I’ve heard,” she says. “I’m just on my way to get a slice.” 

“Oh, great!” Sam replies. “I just wrapped it up, it should still be warm.”

Maria nods and looks towards the kitchen, but doesn’t quite move towards it. Instead, she just gives Sam another soft smile. 

“I’ll have to reheat it a little,” she points out. “Y’know. Cause I didn’t get to eat it with everyone else.” 

“You should have come up earlier!” Sam exclaims. “You could have eaten with us!” 

She just blinks at him. “Yes. That is too bad. I guess I’ll have to go eat by myself now.” 

“No, why? Just yell down to someone!” he suggests. “Anyone’ll come up and be damn lucky to hang with you!” 

Just smiling, Maria nods and pats his shoulder before saying her farewells to all three of them and then heading for the kitchen. Sam’s feeling pretty good about himself as he goes back to his suite. There’s definitely lingering pain from losing his picture, and he’ll deal with that, but he’s still got Steve and Bucky with him, and he’s pretty sure he made Maria happy and…

_“Sam. Honey. Baby. Love,” Riley says. “Think about what just went on back there.”_

“What? Sam asks. “What happened?”

 _“You think maybe Maria was_ hinting _at something?”_

“Yeah, she wanted someone to…” Sam shakes his head. “No, not… she didn’t…”

Even Steve and Bucky, though only four and five-years-old respectively are looking up at him as if Sam’s missed some golden opportunity that was dangling right in front of his face. That can’t be though. Maria wasn’t hinting at wanting _him_ to join her…

Was she?

*** 

Sam rubs his eyes and stares up at the ceiling, confused. It’s dark. Of course it’s dark. It’s still the middle of the night and he has no idea why he’s awake, especially when it feels like he’s just gotten to sleep. After scrubbing Steve and Bucky’s spaghetti mess in the kitchen and bath time and talking them both down from two cookies to one before bed and two bedtime stories and the sudden tiny philosophers who need about a thousand hugs and fifteen potty trips, he’s pretty sure he’s only slept about ten seconds.

He rolls over with a grunt, pulling the blanket with him, only to realize he’s about to knock over a tiny, blonde from the corner of the bed. 

“Shit!” he exclaims. Shoots up and throws the light on. “Steve! What’re you doing outta bed?”

Steve squints as the light floods the room. He scowls at Sam. 

“You saids a cuss word,” he mumbles. “Peppa says you gotta put a nickle in the jar.”

Sam scrubs a hand over his face. Of course. Pepper and her swear jar. Tony’s damn near filled the thing. If Steve and Bucky were their normal ages, they’d’ve filled it twice over. 

“Yeah, I’ll do it in the morning.” He flings the blankets off. “Come on. You gotta go back to bed.”

“Nuh-ah.” Steve takes him by the hand. “Can’t. Bad dreams.”

“You had a bad dream?”

He’s clambering off the bed, trying to pull Sam with him. Steve huffs, already annoyed with Sam for not understanding immediately.

“ _No_ ,” he grunts. “Buck-bee.”

“Bucky had a bad dream?”

“ _Yes_!” Steve hisses as he tugs Sam out of his room and down the hall towards his, where Bucky’s not supposed to be, but ends up every night anyway. “Hurry up, Sammy! Buck-bee’s sad.” 

“All right, let’s go see Bucky.”

Turns out, it’s a lot worse than Sam would’ve imagined. Bucky’s cowering in the corner with Steve’s blanket instead of Blue Blanket tucked around him. He’s trembling. Cheeks pale and tears running down them. He’s even rocking back and forth, mumbling to himself. If Sam didn’t know any better, he’d think the poor kid had a…

“Oh shit,” he mutters. If Bucky had more than a bad dream, but a flashback, his mind conjuring things he just can’t comprehend in his current state, this might be a lot harder to handle than a quick check under the bed for monsters. “Bucky, buddy, hey, can you hear me?”

Sam’s careful not to touch him. Only Steve’s ever able to touch Bucky after he has a night terror or a flashback and he’s not so sure that’s going to be any different now. Steve’s already crouched down next to him. Gently running his tiny hands over Bucky’s hair. Telling him Sammy’ll make it all better. 

Eye flicking from wherever he’s been staring, Bucky tries to look at Sam only to drop his gaze and bury his face in his knees. 

“I had a accident,” he whispers. 

“Oh.” Maybe that’s why he has Steve’s blanket -- and Bucky Bear next to him -- instead of Blue Blanket. “That’s okay. We can clean that up. Are you okay?”

Lifting his head, Bucky’s lip begins to tremble as more tears slide down his cheeks. He bites down on that lips and shrugs. 

“Was I…” Bucky swallows and sniffles. “Was I a bad boy, Sammy?” 

“A bad boy? What do you mean, bud?”

“It hurt,” Bucky says. “Everywhere on my whole body. They wanted me to com… comp… to compl…” He looks up at Sam with more tears in his eyes. “I forgot-ed the word.” 

“That’s, okay,” Sam murmurs, cupping his hand over Bucky’s cheek. 

Bucky bites down on his lip, hard, trying to keep it from trembling so badly. It doesn’t do much.

“Did I do it, Sammy?” he whispers. “Did I do the bad boy things?”

Heart falling, the night cracks all around Sam, pieces of dark and broken shadows landing in every crevice of his soul. He can’t even begin to imagine what horrors played out in poor Bucky’s mind. The world bleeding over in things he can’t make any sense of. 

“I…” Sam reaches out and gently touches the top of Bucky’s head. That, at least, seems permissible, while Steve hugs his arm. “It was just a dream, Bucky,” he settles on saying. “Just a bad dream.” 

Eyes overflowing, Bucky hides his face in his palms to cry even harder, saying he’s too afraid to go back to sleep. That there were people yelling at him. That it hurt his brain. That he did bad things. 

“All right, you don’t have to go back to sleep yet,” Sam assures him. “How about I give you a bath right now? So you can get cleaned up? Do you wanna do that?” 

Bucky takes a minute or two to respond to that, his breathing still hitching and uneven, but when he does, he only lifts his head enough to peer at Sam. 

“Okay,” he whispers. 

“Okay.” Sam stands and reaches for Bucky’s hand. Bucky takes it, but also whimpers and doesn’t let go of Steve’s. “You want Steve to come, too?” Bucky nods. “That’s fine. Steve can come.” 

So, he does. Together, they all go into the bathroom where Sam helps Bucky out of his soiled clothes and tosses them into the sink so he can wash them up later. While he gets the bath running, Steve continues to comfort Bucky, telling him that it’s okay and he’s his bestest friend. 

“Okay, Buck,” Sam says once the water’s good. “Let’s get you going.” 

Sam lifts him into the bathtub and showers him down, sure not to make a big deal out of wetting the bed. It doesn’t take all that long, especially with Steve there chatting away with Bucky like nothing happened at all, even if Bucky is still crying. Sam’ll take care of the dirty sheets later. 

“Hey,” he murmurs when he’s got Bucky all wrapped up in a towel. Sam wipes some more tears away for him. “I’ve got an idea. How would you too like to have a camp out tonight?” 

“What’s a camp out?” Bucky asks as Sam pulls a pair of Cap PJs on for him, the neck of the shirt getting stuck a bit on his chin. 

“It’s when you get to sleep in my bed with me under a tent,” Sam tells them. “And we’ll read some books with flashlights and play some games and have some snacks.” Bucky’s face almost lights up with a weepy smile. “How’s that sound?”

The answer to that is a most definite yes, even if Bucky is still fighting off the last remaining demons of his nightmare. Still, once he’s dressed in fresh clothes, Steve takes him by the hand -- after a tight, affectionate hug -- and leads him back into his bedroom to collect their “things” for their camp out. Sam follows along to first strip down the bed in there before starting on making that little tent he promised for them. Amazingly, Blue Blanket didn’t get dirty, and Bucky is very happy to find it under the bed. 

It takes a few tries, and a bit of straining his brain to remember how to do it correctly, but Sam finally manages to get the sheets over his bed like a tent. A half a tent, really, since the side facing the foot of the bed is still open, but their heads will be covered and Sam’s sure it’s good enough. 

He’s collected a flashlight for each of them and a whole bunch of snacks that he knows will be a mistake come morning, but he just can’t help it tonight. Steve and Bucky have returned with a plastic wagon filled with stuff. A few stuffed animals each and books they want read, plus, of course, Bucky Bear and Blue Blanket. 

Sam claps his hands once after they’ve got everything set up and asks if they’re ready to get started. Both claiming they are, Sam climbs into his bed, carefully maneuvering around the toys, and then has the boys get comfortable at either side of him. 

“Which book first?” he asks, clicking of the lamp and on a flashlight.

Of course, both of them hand him different books, but Steve is kind enough to let Bucky’s be read first. Sam goes through three of them, making funny voices and drawing them out for suspense. After those three, Steve decides he going to start reading books to them. Which simply means he’s describing the pictures on the pages, even if it’s completely out of context with the story. 

Steve, in his Iron Man pajamas, keeps Bucky Bear tucked under his arm so that the bear can see the pictures, too. While both Sam and Steve read, Bucky takes to listening only. He keeps Blue Blanket draped over his shoulders with his thumb in his mouth as he lets the stories chase away the fears of the night. 

They stuff their faces with as much junk food as they can -- popcorn, chips, cheese doodles -- as if Sam will decide to take the food away, even though he’s munching right along with them. Crumbs get all over the place, but Sam will simply clean it in the morning. The only thing he doesn’t let them keep on the bed itself is the juice boxes. Those he makes them put on the nightstands. 

When they’re done with the books, the reason for all the stuffed animals becomes clear. Steve picks up one of the toys and immediately starts playing with them, giving them voices and personalities and a story to tell. He asks Bucky if he wants to play, too, but, thumb still in his mouth, Bucky shakes his head. 

“But, Buck-bee,” Steve whines, “I can’t do it without you!” 

Bucky hesitates. He watches Steve for a second, before flicking his eyes up at Sam and burying himself deeper into his side with another shake of his head. 

“But--”

“Bucky doesn’t have to play if he doesn’t want to,” Sam says. “Why don’t you put on a play for us?” He nudges Bucky. “Would you like that?” 

Smiling around his thumb, Bucky nods and Steve lights up with his own grin before handing his bear to Bucky and asking him to keep it safe. Bucky takes the roll very seriously, even go so far as to wrap the bear up in his blanket with him while Steve goes on to play with toys. Whatever it is he’s doing, the story he’s making up, it’s nearly impossible for Sam to understand, but Steve’s certainly enjoying himself. So is Bucky, if his soft chuckling is any indication. 

A stuffed animal performance, Sam’s learned over the past few weeks, can be quite intricate. More entertaining than daily, daytime soap operas. Mr. Rabbit not delivering enough carrots for the schoolhouse and Hooves the Horse kidnapping the orphans. Pink Piggy the Superhero swooping in just time to save the day. Maybe something about Mrs. Dog growing the rest of the veggies for those kids in the schoolhouse or maybe being the evil queen, it’s hard to tell. 

After a few minutes of that, Steve once again tries to sway Bucky into playing with him. This time around, Bucky takes one of the stuffed animals and plays along with Steve, albeit a lot less animated, and anytime he’s not speaking he sticks his thumb right back into his mouth. Whatever nightmare invaded his poor mind tonight has certainly left its mark. 

“C’mon, Buck-bee!” Steve huffs. “You play, too! Be brave, Buck-bee! Like, Sammy! Sammy’s not a-scared of nuffin’, right, Sammy?”

Sam can do nothing but stare at Steve for a second. While the notion that Captain America could ever think such a thing -- even a four-year-old version -- is flattering, it’s just so untrue that Sam can’t let him think that. 

“N-, Steve, no.” Sam shakes his head. “I’m scared of things. Of course I am. Everyone’s scared of things. And, it’s okay to be scared.” 

The way Steve looks at him after Sam says that, it’s as though Sam’s shattered some impossible image of him. 

“But… but, but…” Steve looks to be trying to wrap his brain around this. “But what’re you a’scared of, Sammy?” 

“Well, there’s…” He tries to say something like the spiders or clowns -- both of which Sam isn’t very fond of -- but instead something else comes out, the words falling from his lips like empty bullet shells. “I’m afraid of ever letting myself get close to someone again.” 

Once again, the two of them just stare at him. Of course they do. Everything Sam’s just said has probably gone way over their heads. They even glance at each other in confusion. 

“What’s that mean?” Bucky asks. 

Sam, wiping at his eyes before any tears show up, chuckles darkly. 

“It, uh, it means… I guess it means that I don’t want to be friends with anyone the way you and Steve are because I’m afraid I’ll lose them the way I lost Riley. That’s the man who was in the picture with me.”

“And he was your very bestest friend?” Steve asks. 

Sam nods. “That’s right. I loved him very much.” 

“Where is he now?” Bucky asks. 

Not about to get into a religious debate with a couple of preschoolers -- he knows Steve has faith in something, he knows Bucky doesn’t, he knows he himself falls somewhere in between -- Sam tells them exactly what makes him feel the most comforted. 

“He lives up in heaven,” Sam says. “With the angels.” 

“Is he the one you talk to sometimes?” Steve questions. “When know one else is around?”

“That’s right.” 

Lips turning down, Steve looks as though something about this has pulled at his heartstrings. He doesn’t say anything. He just looks deep in thought as Bucky goes on asking about Sam’s fear. 

“Do you get to have bad dreams, too, Sammy?” 

“Yes, I do,” he answers. “I get really scared and sometimes wake up just like you did tonight.” 

That seems to make Bucky much happier, the thought that he’s not the only one to have such bad dreams. 

“You have bad dreams about your friend with the angels?” Bucky looks confused. “But I thought the angels would take care of him?” 

“Yeah, but, I’m sad that I don’t get to see him anymore. It’d be like if you never got to see Steve anymore.” 

Horror drains the color from Bucky’s face. Sam can’t tell what emotion the poor kid feels more. The dread of that actually happening or sympathy for Sam, since he’s suddenly taking Blue Blanket from around his shoulders and putting it on Sam’s lap. He even kisses Sam’s cheek and gently caresses his hand. 

“Does this make you not sadder, Sammy?” 

A smile pulls up on Sam’s mouth. Touched. “Yeah, buddy. I--”

“Does he ever n-answer you?” 

Sam glances over to Steve when he asks his very unexpected question. He’s gone from staring out at things his four-year-old mind was turning over to looking very intently at Sam. 

“What?” Sam asks. 

“Riley,” Steve clarifies. “When you talk to him. Does he ever n-answer you?”

“Oh.” Oh. That’s… too complicated to get into. “No, Steve. Not really.” 

Steve’s entire faces falls. His shoulders, his head almost even hanging. He nods as if expecting this disappointing answer. 

“Yeah,” he whispers. “Peggy never n-answers me neither.” Before Sam’s heart has a chance to completely shatter on Steve’s behalf -- no wonder Sam’s heard Steve speaking to himself before -- Steve goes on to say, “But you know what, Sammy?” 

“What’s that, Stevie?” 

“I think that if you don’t let someone be your bestest friend again, then you won’t have a bestest friend and then you’ll be all alone without a bestest friend.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees with Steve’s childish, but, somehow sound logic. “And we love you, Sammy. You can be our bestest friend.”

They’re both climbing onto his lap with big, cheesy grins on their faces, and for the first time in a long time, Sam actually _does_ feel like that might be true. Not just co-workers or partners. Not acquaintances or friends. But Sam could truly, one hundred percent be best -- bestest -- friends with Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. 

He wonders, for a moment, if on some level, in some world, they can even be something more. Soul mates of some sort. Even if they’re not romantic, Sam’s not sure he can ever find a pair of better friends if he lived a hundred lifetimes. 

_“And it took them being turned into little kids for you to notice,”_ _Riley teases. “Always so observant.”_

Sam can only smile as he hugs his two little buddies to his chest. Squeezes them into a mess of giggles. 

“I love you guys, too,” he says. “And you make the best bestest friends _ever_.” 

***

Two more weeks go by in the blink of an eye. Well, maybe they don’t feel like a blink of an eye as they’re happening, but when Sam’s asked to bring Steve and Bucky to the lab, and everyone else is there when they get there, his heart falls. 

“What’s going on?” he asks, as if he can’t already put two and two together. 

Tony laughs. “Exactly what you’ve been waitin’ for!”

“We’ve broken down the properties of the Time Gem,” Bruce says. “And slowed the process.” 

“We’d hoped the process would just cycle naturally,” Dr. Cho goes on. “But clearly that’s not going to happen.” 

“If it is, it’s taking way too long,” Tony grunts. “So, it’s time we get this show on the road.” 

From over on the other end of the room, Rhodey chuckles with a shake of his head. 

“In other words,” he says, “you’re ready to get things back to normal around here.” 

“As normal as they ever are,” Natasha adds. “And around here, who knows what that means.”

They go on talking and poking fun at each other. Normal antics for around here. Maybe a sign that things are actually headed back that way. But Sam doesn’t engage in any of the light conversation going on as Tony, Bruce, and Helen get things ready. Instead, he takes a step back with Steve and Bucky. When he turns around to them, he realizes he’s made a mistake by not doing this sooner. They look nervous. Worried. Sam crouches down in front of them. 

“Hey,” he murmurs. Touches both their chins. “What’s wrong?” 

“What’s going on, Sammy?” Bucky asks. 

Steve hugs his bear to his chest. “Are we in trouble?” 

“What?” Sam shakes his head. “No. No, of course not. You haven’t done anything wrong, right?” They both say no, that they’ve been good. “Exactly. You’ve both been very good boys today.”

“Then why can’t we go play?” Steve wants to know. “Can’t we go swimming?”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees. “Let’s go swimming.” 

There’s a part of Sam that wants to do just that. He wants to give in to their adorable, pleading faces and just scoop them up to take them to the pool. This can wait another day or so, can’t it? It’s not like they’re going anywhere. Another day wouldn’t do any harm. 

But then, the more rational part of him tells him exactly why that’s not a good idea. They need Steve and Bucky back to their normal selves. For their safety. For the Avengers. For the right thing. 

“We can’t go swimming today, guys,” Sam tells them, and needs to hold back a sad chuckle when they both give him weepy frowns. “We’re gonna do something here in the lab today, okay?”

They both whine. 

“But the lab is _born-ing_ ,” Steve groans, and Bucky is quick to agree. 

Sam laughs. “Yeah. I know. But we won’t have to be here long.”

As soon as he says it, Tony is calling them over and Sam’s heart is falling and he feels completely ridiculous. This is what he wanted. This is the way it’s supposed to be. And yet he can’t seem to make himself stand back up and turn around to bring them over to where they’ll be changed back into their normal selves. 

“C’mere.” Sam opens his arms. “Gimme a big hug, okay?” 

“Are you going away?” Steve asks. 

“Mm-mm. I just want a hug from my two bestest friends. And that’s you two, right?”

Lighting up with two big smiles, they both nod and jump into Sam’s embrace. Once they’re there, Steve and Bucky both nestle their heads on Sam’s shoulders with a soft, affectionate hum. As if knowing there’s something special about this hug, they stay right where they are, not moving an inch out of the warm hug until Tony calls from them again. 

“Alright, you guys,” he says. “Let’s get this show on the road.” 

Eyes squeezing shut, Sam holds back the sudden burn of painful tears and sucks in a deep breath before rising to his feet. Steve and Bucky look up at him, waiting for his cue on how they should act. He grins. 

“It’s okay,” Sam tells them. “I told you. We’re gonna be real quick.” 

“And then we can play?” 

Somehow, Sam manages to get an answer past a pinched windpipe and an onslaught of emotions. 

“Yeah. Then we can play.” 

They accept this answer with grins and nods, and then take Sam by the hand so they can be led over to where Tony and the others are waiting. Once they’re close, Natasha smirks at Bucky and he’s happy enough to allow her to lift him up onto the lab table. On any other day, Steve might let Tony pick him up, but today, he clings onto Sam and won’t let anyone else do it. 

When both of them are up on the table -- and Tony, Bruce, and Helen assure the rest of the team it’s safe for them to stay in the lab -- Sam hugs them again. Tells them he loves them. And then isn’t quite sure what happens next since instead of paying attention to anyone else, all he’s focused on is Steve and Bucky’s last few moments as his kids. 

While Sam’s sure Tony goes on to explain what they’re going to do and Bruce and Helen probably translate, Sam watches Steve and Bucky play with Bucky Bear and Blue Blanket. Even here they bicker a little -- over what, Sam can’t really tell -- but they get it solved and Steve giggles and Bucky throws his arms around him to pull Steve in closer. 

The next thing Sam knows, Tony is telling Bucky to hold Steve’s hand and handing Steve a glowing rock. Sam, at first, protests. When they watched the video of what got this all started, Steve grabbing hold of the Time Gem looked painful. He’s not about to let his little Stevie touch something that’s going to hurt him. But they all assure him that this isn’t going to hurt. That it’s not the same as the whole Time Gem. Sam can only take their word for it, and nods for Steve to go ahead and do as he’s told. 

“Here we go,” Tony says as Steve reaches to take it off the tray. “Fingers crossed.” 

Sam finds himself only able to cross the fingers on one hand instead of both. And just like last time, the second Steve touches the stone, there’s a loud bang and an explosion of orange smoke that fills the room. The smoke doesn’t smell _nearly_ as bad as the last time, but it’s thick and everywhere and making everyone cough. 

“Okay, my bad!” Tony’s saying. “FRIDAY, up the ventilation systems by forty percent, please?”

Within seconds, the smoke starts to clear, and sitting on the lab table, are two very naked and very confused super soldiers. The full-sized Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes glance at each and then at Bucky Bear and Blue Blanket. Noticing their nakedness, they use their respective security items to cover up. Once their disorientation seems to begin to clear, and the must notice they’re not alone, both of them clear their throats. 

“What’s, uh, what’s going on?” Steve asks. 

“Why are we naked?” Leave it to Bucky to go straight to that. “Did we miss something fun? Did someone slip Asgardian Mead into our drinks?”

“Well,” Rhodey scoffs. “I guess they’re back to normal.” 

“Yes,” Steve says. “Back to normal.” His eyes shift to everyone in the room. “When were we… _not_ normal?”

As Natasha hands them both blankets to save some of their dignity now that they’ve all seen their dignity anyway, Sam feels something in him break. Everyone is already going into teasing and joking. Sure, Helen is checking their vitals and Bruce is taking blood that they’re gonna test just to make sure that everything is okay, but they’re easing right back into the normal routine of things. 

Sam’s not even sure what it is. All he knows is that when Steve and Bucky tell Tony that the last thing they remember is being in here when Tony was working on Bucky’s arm, something inside Sam hurts. Which means they don’t remember any of it. And Sam’s not sure if he can handle that. 

_“Don’t run, Sam,” Riley whispers. “You know how they feel about you.”_

_Not them, Sam argues. They’re different. I can’t do this._

Maybe he can, one day. But that day is not today, and without being noticed, Sam slips out of the room and goes back to his suite to really be alone for the first time in almost two full months. 

***

Pepper truly could rule the world, of that Sam’s convinced. As quickly as she had his place set up for little Steve and Bucky to be able to live with him, she’s had it set back to what it was like before. Strange though, Sam hasn’t been able to bring himself to look into the two rooms that had been their bedrooms. 

It’s completely ridiculous. It’s not like Steve and Bucky have gone anywhere. They’ve just changed. Changed _back_ into who they’re supposed to be. There’s no reason for Sam to be so… mopey, is probably the best word for it. 

He hasn’t seen either of them in over a week, but then, no one really has. They’ve been in their suite, and, honestly, that’s not exactly too surprising. They’re probably making up for lost time together. Neither of them like being separated and this, Sam’s sure, they count as as separation. 

And if Sam’s being honest with himself -- _“Which you’re not these days, babe. --_ he hasn’t exactly been out of his suite much either. He’s not sure if he’s avoiding just Steve and Bucky or everyone or just… he’s not sure. 

Everything is so quiet around here now that he’s alone again. Clean, too. Sam’s even still waking up and going to bed around the same time. He’s got his peace and quiet, and he old life back, but this isn’t how he expected he’d feel. 

Plopping down on the couch, Sam sighs and snatches up the remote. Maybe a little television will help smooth things over. Just get his mind off of all this. 

Which doesn’t work at all when two people are suddenly shouting and scaring the hell out of him enough that he leaps right back off of the couch. 

“Sammy!” 

“What the hell?” 

He spins around to see Steve and Bucky kneeling behind his couch, each wearing big, goofy smiles. Heart pounding, it takes a second for Sam to realize he’s got his fist raised in the air like he means to defend himself against an attack. Only there isn’t one coming. Well, not a violent one anyway. He lowers his fist and sighs. 

“What the _hell_ ,” he repeats. “What’re you two _doing_? Trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Nah,” Bucky replies, “Pretty sure you’re tougher than that.”

“Besides,” Steve adds, “Why would we want to do that?” 

Sam doesn’t answer that. Instead, he just stays where he is. Folds his arms over his chest in some attempt to seem casual when he feels anything but. 

“So, then, what _are_ you doing?” 

They exchange a glance and then stand to come around and sit down on the couch. Now that the real question is out in the open, they look a lot more serious. 

“It… feels like you’ve been avoiding us,” Steve says. 

Bucky nods. “We just wanna make sure we haven’t… done anything to upset you.” 

So many things run through Sam’s mind at once. There’s too much for him to even think straight. He can’t really answer that truthfully. Sam just shakes his head, lowering his gaze to his feet. 

“It’s not… I just…”

“Because we would hate to think that our bestest friend was mad at us.” 

Head snapping up, Sam’s heart drops to the ground and bounces back up to his throat. They must have rehearsed that or something since they said it at the exact same time with the exact same inflection.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Sam shakes his hands out in front of him. “I thought… I thought you said you didn’t remember anything that happened…”

Taking a glance at each other again, they both return their gaze to Sam with innocent, but mischievous expressions, and, damn it, if they’re not the same as before only older. 

“Not at first,” Steve says. “At first, it was like one second we were in the lab with Tony and the next we were naked on the table surrounded by everyone.” 

“But after a day or two,” Bucky goes on, “things started coming back to us.” 

Sam shakes his head. “You haven’t said anything though. Everyone thinks…”

Bucky stretches his lips. “Eh… yeah, we didn’t think it was necessary for everyone to know that we remember you giving us baths and getting us in pajamas and stuff.” 

The first thing that comes to mind is the picture Sam snapped of them that first night they were sleeping. He can’t wait to show them that one. 

“Thing is, though,” Steve says. “You haven’t been around much. And we’re kinda worried that you’re avoiding us.” 

They rise from the couch now and slowly approach. Having no idea what to expect, Sam’s arms drop. He knows he doesn’t have to protect himself from them, it’s just… they’re coming closer and he doesn’t know what to do or what _they_ plan on doing. 

As they come forward, Steve says, “It’s just…”

“We meant what we said,” Bucky adds. “You really need to know that.”

“Because we never want you to feel alone.” 

“Because you aren’t.” 

In front of him now, Steve and Bucky stop. They’re close enough that Sam can feel the heat from their bodies. And they’re so warm. So very, very warm. 

“You’re not alone, Sammy,” Steve whispers, and begins to slip his arms around him.

Bucky’s arms do the same. “You’re never alone.” 

Sam suddenly finds himself being hugged between the two super soldiers. It’s much different when they’re full-sized and not mini. They keep their embrace loose though, as though letting Sam decide whether or not the hug should really happen. 

Tears sting Sam’s eyes. He doesn’t know what to do. Or how to feel. Or what he feels. 

_“Yes, you do,” Riley murmurs. “It’s okay, love. Let yourself feel.”_

Safe. That’s how Sam feels. Safe. Protected. Loved. And most importantly, not alone. 

Those tears, which Sam’s held back for so long now, burst from his tightly held grip. That hug is now tight and full, and Sam’s not sure whose shoulder his forehead is against and whose shirt he’s clinging to, but neither Steve nor Bucky ever try to make him move. All they do is hold him close. Whisper words of comfort and reassurance. Words that tickle the outside of Sam’s soul looking for a place to make home. 

They hug for an unmeasurable amount of time. By the time Sam runs out of tears -- though he waits a bit more before unraveling from the tangles of super soldiers around him -- Steve, tears in his eyes, gives him a warm smile. Bucky has his face hidden, his fingers pressed into his eyes before he looks up again and smiles the same way Steve does. 

“I think I liked you better when you were just kids,” Sam says with a wipe to his eyes. “You were so much smaller than me. Hugs were easier.” 

The three of them chuckle lightly and before Sam can wipe away another tear that sneaks out, Bucky reaches over and does it for him. His touch is strangely soft, even with his metal fingers. Sam knows he can be gentle -- he’s seen him be with Steve. He’s just never experienced it himself. 

“We love you, Sam,” Bucky murmurs.

“Don’t leave us,” Steve says. “We need you.” 

Sam shakes his head. “Pretty sure you can take care of yourselves now.” 

Before he can even decide if he’s trying to make a joke or not, Steve and Bucky are shaking their heads. 

“Sorry,” he whispers. “I dunno what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing,” Steve says. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Just like you say when I ask that.” 

“Or when I do,” Bucky adds. “Besides.” He straightens up and grins. “You said we made the bestest best friends ever. So, you have no choice.”

Steve nods. “That’s right. You’re stuck with us, Sammy.” 

Bucky swings an arm over Sam’s shoulder. Steve then swings his around Sam’s waist. 

“Whether you like it or not,” Bucky says. 

_“Which you do, Sam,” Riley points out. “Admit it.”_

Sam leans into them now and nods. He takes in a deep breath and on its release feels lighter and almost peaceful. 

“I do,” he says. “I do like it. Do me a favor, would ya?”

“You just took care of us for two months,” Steve points out. “In the weirdest fuckin’ situation.” 

“Pretty sure you can ask us for just about anything,” Bucky says.

An idea rings through Sam’s mind when Bucky says that. The Bartons, he’s sure can use a vacation. Sam is pretty sure he can volunteer two babysitters for them. 

But for right now.

“Don’t let me go, okay?”

Sam doesn’t expect them to answer that literally, but they wrap him up in another tight hug. 

“Don’t you worry, Sammy,” Bucky says. “We won’t.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “Even if that means coming over and demanding chicken nuggets.” 

A laugh bursts from Sam’s lungs, his whole body shaking with it.

“Dunno if I’d mind so much.” 

“Good.” Steve drops a hand on his shoulder. “No. Come here. We gotta do one more thing.” 

The next things Sam knows, he’s being led into his bedroom where Bucky starts rummaging through his drawers. As he does, Steve takes to holding Sam’s chin and turning his face this way and that as though inspecting him. When Sam asks if he can ask what they’re doing, they both say no and, apparently, that’s that. 

Once Steve’s finished with his inspection, he tells Sam to shower. When Sam questions them again, he’s just shooed away and told he only has ten minutes. Sighing, Sam figures it’s best to just do as he’s told. They shout to brush his teeth, too, as he leaves the room. 

Just to fuck with them -- because who the hell do they think they are, just because they’re grown again doesn’t mean they’re not his kids anymore -- Sam takes fifteen minutes in the shower and then another ten drying off. Throwing his robe on, Sam heads back.

When he gets there, Steve and Bucky have obviously been waiting for him, so when Sam flashes them a toothy grin, Bucky scoffs and snatches up the boxer briefs from the bed and tosses them at his face. Sam laughs as he pulls them away. 

“I guess these are for me?” 

“Well, they’re yours,” Steve comments. “So…”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sam looks at the spread on his bed. The slacks and button down they’ve chosen for him. “What the hell is going on?”

Instead of telling him that, they just request that he get dressed, and once again Sam figures if he’s gonna find out any time soon, he might as well just go along with these two knuckleheads. Big or small, they do always seem to somehow get their way. As soon as he’s ready, dressed from head to toe, and has Steve in front of him brushing out any wrinkles at his shoulders and Bucky crouched at his side fixing the bottom of his pants, something dawns on Sam.

“This…” His throat dries a little. “This sorta feels like we’re, uh, getting ready to go on a date.” 

Steve, looking at what he’s doing instead of into Sam’s eyes, smiles with a flick of his eyebrows. 

“Well, while neither of us would be particularly opposed to you joining if you ever wanted--”

Sam’s heart picks up double time and flips and swells a few sizes. He glances down at Bucky who also just continues with what he’s doing as though Steve’s words are completely commonplace and simply bobs his head and slightly shrugs like he shares Steve’s thoughts.

“--we’re pretty sure your interests are already somewhere else.”

For a few seconds, Sam’s thoughts are only on the first part of what Steve’s said. Join them? Really? It’s never something Sam even considered. Being with Steve and Bucky. They were a _them_ right from the start. The idea of it now makes him flush so hard he’s absolutely sure they can feel the heat coming from his body. 

Then the second part of what Steve’s said finally registers and Sam snaps his head up.

“Wait… _what_?” he exclaims. “ _Who_?” 

Rather than answer that, since they seem keen on leaving the evening shrouded in mystery, Steve and Bucky snicker. Now that they appear satisfied, they lead Sam from the bedroom and through his suite. 

“Okay, whoa, where’re we going?” Sam asks when they leave his floor entirely. 

“That part’s up to you,” Steve says in the elevator. 

“Yeah, c’mon,” Bucky adds with a playful clap to the back. “We can do _everything_ for you. You’re a _growing_ up, Sammy.” 

Eyeing him, Sam actually considers punching him in the arm, and actually comes to the decision to do so, but the elevator doors open before he can. He’d still go on with the punch if something out in the lobby didn’t grab his attention first. Sam straightens up, shocked. The breath rushes right out of his lungs. 

Sam really can’t believe his eyes. Or that Steve and Bucky’s eyes had picked up on what he’d tried to even been hiding from himself. Waiting for him out in the lobby is Maria, and she’s all dolled up. If Sam thought she was amazingly beautiful the first time he laid eyes on her, she completely blows his mind now. 

“Go on, Sam,” Steve whispers in his ear. “Be happy.” 

Bucky’s hand, still on his back, gives a slight push. “You deserve it.” 

The push gets Sam going. He may’ve been too surprised to move otherwise. 

_“Well?” Riley chuckles. “Are you gonna think of something to say?”_

_What… what do I do? Is this okay? Are you…_

_“I love you, Sam. I always will. Now go show her those Wilson moves that made me love you so much.”_

_I love you, Riley. Forever._

Okay. 

He can do this.

Sam can look towards the future while keeping the past tucked and protected in his heart. 

Yeah. 

He’s got this. 

_Be cool, Wilson._

“Hey there,” Sam says when he reaches Maria. Maria smiles. “Did you fall from angel when you’re a heaven?”

Stomach dropping to his feet, Sam can only stare at Maria in abject horror as her smile falls. She just blinks at him while Sam goes on just gaping at her, completely shocked that those words, in that order, just came out of his mouth. 

“Did you just--”

“I don’t know!” Sam exclaims. “That… “

“Was horrible,” Maria says. “Absolutely horrible. Are you always so horrible at pick up lines?”

A smirk pulls at the corner of Sam’s mouth. “Actually… yes. Yes, I am.” 

“Well, if you’re as bad as pick up lines as you are as picking up on signals,” Maria says, “then this would never be happening. I never thought I’d have to rely on Rogers and Barnes to set me up on a date.” 

Sam scratches the back of his neck, finding it hard to keep eye contact, especially when it’s with such a gorgeous lady. 

“I gotta admit,” Sam replies. “I never thought you’d be the kind of woman who’d have to wait for _me_ to ask _you_.”

“Oh, I’m not.” She shakes her head matter-of-factly. “But I also didn’t want to push you.”

An appreciative smile touches Sam’s face. He clears his throat and holds his arm out, remember that, at times, he can be charming. He’s got moves. 

“Hm.” She looks a little impressed as she curls her arm around his. “Now we’re getting somewhere.” 

“Well, where to now, Ms. Hill?”

“Y’know I didn’t get to eat that pizza with you the last time,” she says. “How about we go get some good Italian?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Sam agrees as they walk towards the doors, away from the past, and onward. 

***

“Hey, Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re going out with Steve and Bucky tonight, right?”

Instead shouting across back to Maria from the bathroom where he’s just finished brushing his teeth, Sam goes to the bedroom and props up against the doorframe. For a moment, he doesn’t let her know he’s there. 

Sometimes he just loves to watch her. In the past three months, Sam’s decided Maria is just always so beautiful. Even now, when she’s wearing just a pair of pajama pants and one of his sweatshirts. All she’s doing right now is tossing the pillows back on the bed. Not quite making it, cause she’ll just fling the blankets over next, and that’s good enough. 

Things have been going great with them. They’ve had their ups and downs, of course, but for the most part, up. Sam loves her company. Maria has a dry sense of humor that mixes great with his cornball jokes. She never presses Sam on days when bad memories creep up on him. She’s careful when he wakes up from a nightmare. She’s always happy to hear stories about Riley. 

While Sam’s walls that have housed only him and Riley for so long are still there, he’s learning to slowly bring them down. He wants Maria -- and Steve and Bucky -- to see over the sides of them. More than that, he wants to let them step inside. This way, if they happen to go up for some reason, he doesn’t find himself trapped inside all alone. 

Because these past few months have been the most freeing he’s had since he lost his Riley. Sam had no idea how trapped inside a stone prison of his own pain he was until he had the innocence of children give him all their love. 

“Sam?” Maria shouts, still unaware that he’s actually standing there. She starts to turn with another shout of his name on her lips. “Sa-oh my god. You idiot.”

Sam laughs and comes the rest of the way into the room. He actually fixes the bedding.

“Sorry,” he chuckles. “Yes. It’s poker night.” 

“Ah. Right.” She comes over and slips her arms around his neck. Presses a soft kiss to his lips. “Sure you don’t want to cancel.”

He chases her lips as she backs away, teasing him and not allowing him another kiss. Sam scoffs in defeat and drops his head on her shoulder.

“I might,” he says. “It might be worth it to stay in bed with you all night. But you know them. They’d end up showing up here anyway. Probably set up a game right here in the bedroom.” 

Maria laughs. “Not if I had anything to say about it. But you’re right. Nat, Sharon, Pepper, and I might catch a movie anyway.” 

“Oh, ditchin’ me for your ladies, huh?”

“Well, you’re ditching me for your boys,” she counters. “So, it’s even.”

Sam grins and pecks a kiss to her nose before wrapping her in a hug. He glances over to his nightstand, his smile growing and his heart singing at what he sees. What he keeps there now. Reminders of what is and what will always be. The true loves of his life. All the different kinds.

A new framed picture of him and Riley with the old polaroid in the corner of it. A picture of Maria and him on one of their first dates. A picture of him between Steve and Bucky. The picture of the sleeping Steve and Bucky he took in Steve’s racecar bed. 

And on the wall, framed and reluctantly signed by a grown Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, is the picture they both drew for Sam. A reminder of the time, when they were the kids that helped free him from his prison. 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed as much as I enjoyed writing :) Once again, thank you so much to my artist, Ash ((who you can find at [doodlebugash](http://www.doodlebugash.tumblr.com/) for more brilliant work)) for lending such talent that gave this an even better touch. 
> 
> And if you want, come find me at [thebestpersonherelovesbucky](http://www.thebestpersonherelovesbucky.tumblr.com/) for some more marvel fun! :)


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